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GARDEN-LAND 




: ' Good-night!' breathed the children, kissing- their hands to the starry darkness." 

[Page 128.] 



GAin)Ejsr-LA.jv7) 



By 
ROBERT W. CHAMBERS 

M 
Author of 

li Mountain- Land," " Outdoor- Land," " Orchard- Land" 

' ' River- Land, " and ' ' Forest- Land " 



With Illustrations in Color and 
Decorations by 

HARRISON CADY 




NEW YORK 
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 

1907 












I uitRARY of CONGRESS 

twu OoDtes Received 

OCT 18 »90? 

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Copyright, 1907, by 
ROBERT W. CHAMBERS 



Published October, 1907 



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CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I. — The Garden x 

II.— The Ruby-Throat . 24 

HI.— Musca, the Fly 50 

IV.— King Speckles and King Spots 66 

V. — The Caterpillars 8 4 

VI.— The Fish Pond 100 

VII.— The Night People . » Il8 




LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

FACING 
PAGE 

" ' Good-night ! ' breathed the children, kissing their hands to the 

Starry darkness " Frontispiece - 

" 'A humming bird/ whispered Geraldine. 'The dear little thing ! ' " 16 / 

" An enormous hornet appeared. . . . ' Where is he ? Where is 

that spider?'" 36- 

" 'Ah ! ' sighed the fly, ' what a world of surprises this is to be 

sure ! ' " 60 ^ 

" ' When you speak to me,' said the toad gravely, ' have the good- 
ness to address me as " Sire " 70 / 

" ' We are not ruining the garden, really we are not ! ' " . . .92 

" ' Perhaps you have a few flies in your pocket ? ' suggested the 

goldfish " 106 

" One after another they came, resting proudly for an instant on 

her wrist." 126 




GARDEN-LAND 



CHAPTER I 



THE GARDEN 



NOON sunshine lay warm across the 
garden. The flowers stood tall and 
slim in the calm golden light. No 
breeze stirred them ; nothing moved in the 
garden except the red fins of goldfish in the 



Ga.rden-La.nd 

fountain pool. Sky and air and water were 
so still, so silent that it seemed as if this 
little corner of the world were waiting for 
the children to come back to their play- 
ground under the big syringa bushes. 

After luncheon they came, slowly, hand 
clasping hand, strolling along the familiar 
paths. And, as they moved through the 
garden, the little summer breezes woke up 
and began to play among the water reeds ; 
velvet-winged butterflies aroused themselves 
from honeyed torpor and began to explore 
the scented depths of heliotrope and larkspur; 
dragon flies, clinging to the water-lily pads, 
let go and drifted through the heated fra- 
grance on glittering wings ; and the biggest 
and oldest and goldest goldfish goggled his 
round eyes up at the children and began 
gently finning the water as though expecting 
a crumb. 

So the children threw a handful of bread 



The Garden 

crumbs to the goldfish and then lay down in 
the cool shadow of the big syringa bush. 

A dozen little breezes immediately came 
and began to play with the tangled gold of 
Geraldine's hair. Three friendly ants crawled 
over Peters bare knees. No doubt they be- 
lieved themselves to be on a very high moun- 
tain, for they stood up on their hind legs and 
waved their fore legs as though cheering the view. 

The syringa bush was in full blossom. 
Through sprays of white bloom the children 
could see blue sky and wooded ridges of 
low mountains, and far, far up a little silver 
cloud shaped like a canoe, sailing off into the 
magic East. 

" I wish we were in it," sighed Peter. 
" Fd steer straight for some of those wonder- 
ful countries where there are nothing but 
palm trees and spices, and Birds of Paradise 
and butterflies as big as pigeons. Now it's 
your turn to wish something, Geraldine. ,, 

3 



Garden-Land 

Geraldine brushed the bright curls from 
her eyes and looked up wistfully at the little 
white cloud which was shaped like a canoe 
built for children. 

" I wish," she said, " that we were sailing 
through the sky above a strange and beauti- 
ful country where we could look down over 
the edge of our cloud boat and see very 
young princesses, all covered with jewels, walk- 
ing around and feeding swans out of golden 
dishes. We could peep over the edge of our 
cloud boat and call down to them and wave 
our handkerchiefs, you know." 

" I haven't a handkerchief," observed Pe- 
ter ; "I forget where I left it. Anyway, I 
wouldn't bother about the princesses ; Fd be 
on the lookout for wild and dreadful animals. 
What fun to sail safely over whole forests 
full of tigers and snakes and savages ! Don't 
you think so, Geraldine ? " 

Geraldine nodded doubtfully. 

4 



The Garden 

" However," she said, " I am rather glad 
that our garden is so perfectly safe. I'm 
glad it has a wall, too." 

" What good is the wall ? There is noth- 
ing dangerous outside, you know ; there is 
nothing in all our Outdoor-land that can 
harm us/' 

" You say it as though you wished there 
were a few tigers outside," said Geraldine 
lazily. 

" Well, I think it would be rather nice 
to sit safe inside your own garden and listen 
to the terrible roar of savages and tigers 
who couldn't get in. Don't you? I mean 
just for an hour or two?" 

Geraldine shook her curly head and stared 
mutely up at the little cloud, which had now 
almost reached the mountain ridge on its 
voyage into the purple East. 

" No," she said, " I would not care to 
live in any Outdoor-land where things sat 

5 



Garden-hand 

outside gardens and roared. But I would 
rather like to hear true stories about such a 
country/ 

Peter rolled over in the sweet warm grass 
and rested his chin in the palm of his hand. 
" Such a perfect day for stories/' he sighed, 
" stories of wonderful countries. Geraldine, 
I am just aching for a story about strange 
and distant lands." 

"Shall I make up one for you?" in- 
quired Geraldine generously. " IVe eaten a 
lot and I'm sleepy, but I'll do it." 

"Thank you, Geraldine," said Peter, set- 
tling comfortably upon his elbows, which 
brought his eyes very close to the grass. The 
next moment he exclaimed : 

" Gracious ! ' 

" What is it ? " asked Geraldine, bending 
her head down beside Peter, who lay flat on 
his stomach, staring hard. " Oh," she added, 
catching sight of the object that held Peter's 



The Garden 

attention, " it's a Katydid ! a beautiful, gauzy, 
green Katydid. Oh ! I do hope it will say 
' Katy-did ' for us ; will you ? " she pleaded 
in a whisper, her red lips very close to the 
delicate-winged insect. 

" I would if I could, just to please you, 
Geraldine," said the Katydid in a sweet little 
voice, " but I can't." 

" What ! Can't say ' Katy-did ' ? " ex- 

claimed Peter incredulously. 

"No, I can't, Peter; I'm a lady Katydid. 
Only gentlemen Katydids can sit on gr'ass 
stems and twigs and fiddle ' Katy-did — Katy- 
did — Katy-did' — about two hundred times 
every sixty seconds " 

" Oh, do they fiddle it ? I thought they 
sang it ! " said Geraldine, astonished. 

" No, all our gentlemen fiddle. Every 

gentleman carries a musical instrument at the 

base of his green wing cover, but we young 

ladies don't. It is, I think, more becoming 

3 7 



Gar den-hand 

for young ladies to listen to a gentleman's 
serenade than to serenade a gentleman by 
moonlight. Don't you think so, Geraldine ? " 

" I don't know very much about such 
things," said Geraldine frankly. " Would you 
mind telling us what to call you — if you are 
not a real Katy-did ? " 

" But I am a real lady Katydid," insisted 
the pretty insect, "and my real name is 
Microcentrum retinervis\ but," she added gra- 
ciously, "you may call me Katharine, if you 
like." 

" You are a dear," said Geraldine, touch- 
ing the delicate green, lacelike wings with 
the tip of her finger. " It doesn't seem very 
difficult to believe in fairies when I look at 
you with your gauzy, spangled, gold and 
green clothes. Tell me, Katharine, what do 
you eat ? " 

"Salad," replied the insect; "leaf salad, 
grass salad — that sort of thing. I never have 



The Garden 

any trouble about eating; what worries me is 
planning how not to be eaten." 

" Birds ?" inquired Peter. " Do they chase 
you t 

"Yes, birds, ants, hornets, squirrels, dragon 
flies, fishes — oh, almost everybody wants to 
eat me. That's the reason I try to look as 
much like a green leaf as I can, and sit very 
still on a twig all day until night sends the 
birds to bed. If they'd only let me alone I'd 
have a good, long life to live." 

"How long?" asked Peter. 

" Oh, almost a year — sometimes longer. 
You see I was an egg last year. Mother laid 
about a hundred and fifty of us eggs last 
September, on the twigs of that big ash tree ; 
and early this spring the egg that I was in 
split open and out I came, not green, and 
big, and beautiful, but small and fragile, and 
so pale that I was almost transparent. Now 
I'm full grown — quite grown up, you see, be- 

9 



Garden-Land 

cause last night — and this is a secret, chil- 
dren : last night while I was lazily hovering 
and drifting along over the tops of the moon- 
lit clover, I heard, close by, a most unusually 
beautiful serenade. The music was delicious, 
the verses very noble. Shall I repeat them ? ,: 

" Please do," said Geraldine, smiling. 

" Then this was the wonderful poem set 

to most entrancing music ; but neither words 

nor music were sung ; both were fiddled : 

"Katy -did ! 
Katy -did I 
Katy -did ! 
Katy! 
Katy! 
Katy-;//;//" 

Isn't it beautiful ?" 

" Very," said Geraldine politely. " Is 
there more of it ? " 

"Oh, dear me, yes — yards and yards of 

it ! — front yards, back yards, dooryards — all 

kinds of yards and yards of it." 

10 



The Garden 

" Are the other verses like the verse you 
recited ? " asked Peter. 

" Exactly. All the verses are exactly 
alike. That's the charm of it/' 

" And did you discover the serenader ? " 
asked Geraldine softly. 

"At first," said the Katydid modestly, "I 
pretended not to listen. I alighted upon a 
grass stalk and sat there waving my long 
feelers in the fragrant night breeze and trying 
to look as though I had not noticed a very 
handsome and dashing young gentleman Katy- 
did perched high on a tuft of meadow-sweet 
and fiddling steadily away for my benefit. " 

" Don't you think it was rather impolite 
of you not to notice him?" said Geraldine, 
smoothing the dainty, gauzy wings with cau- 
tious fingers. " I'm afraid you are a coquette, 
Katharine." 

" I suppose I am," admitted the insect — 

" but — but I am so young — and the strange 

1 1 



Garden-Land 

gentleman was so sudden. How would you 
like it if you were quietly flying along through 
the dusk, and a strange gentleman should sud- 
denly sit up on a flower and begin to fiddle 
you a proposal the moment he saw you ? ' 

" I — I don't know how I'd feel," mur- 
mured Geraldine dreamily. 

The Katydid remained silent ; a little 
cloud passed across the sun, and the sunshine 
faded for a moment. Suddenly a strident 
sound broke out from the bushes across the 
pool : 

KaXy-did ! 

Katy— " 

breaking off abruptly as the sun came out 
from behind the cloud again, flooding the 
world with brightness. 

" Why, Katharine, where are you going ? " 
exclaimed Geraldine. 

But the little Katydid rose into the air 

12 



The Garden 

on frail, green wings and went drifting off 
dreamily through the sunshine toward the 
leafy bower of her hidden lover, braving the 
dangers from bird and dragon fly, because her 
sweetheart, mistaking a cloud for the coming 
of evening, had called to her across the garden 
world. 

" She isn't a coquette after all," said Ger- 
aldine slowly. 

Peter made no comment ; Geraldine gazed 
wistfully after the Katydid, then curled up in 
the warm grasses, resting her chin on her 
palms and staring into space. 

4 'That was a mushy sort of story," ob- 
served Peter presently. " I — I wish somebody 
would tell me a decent story." 

" Fll make one up for you, if you like," 
said Geraldine. " Shall I ? " 

" Oh, I mean a real story — and thank 

you just as much. You know what I mean, 

don't you?" 

13 



Garden-hand 

" Of course. You mean that it would be 
perfectly delightful if a mysterious stranger 
came walking into our garden and sat down 
on that marble seat by the fountain and 
began : 

" i Once upon a time when I was lost 
in the dreadful and dangerous jungles of 
South America' — that's the sort of story you 
mean, don't you?" 

" Exactly the sort. Oh, dear! if only it 
were possible for a mysterious traveler to 
suddenly appear here in our garden and tell 
us a story like that." 

"If only it were possible ! ' sighed Geral- 
dine softly. 

" It is possible ! ' answered a sweet, hap- 
py little voice almost in their ears ; and the 
children sat up astonished. 

Whiz! Whir! Whir-r-r! Zip! Whir-r-r! 

There in mid-air a tiny, winged creature 
hung in the sunshine, its wings whirring so 

14 



The Garden 

fast that they were mere misty blurs; a very 
little bird, balanced before a clump of tall 
Canterbury Bells, thrusting its slender bill 
into the honeyed heart of blossom after blos- 
som. 

"A humming bird," whispered Geraldine. 
"The dear little thing! Oh, Peter, its body 
is all glittering with green and gold, and its 
throat shines like a crimson jewel ! ' 

"Did you hear what it said?" whispered 
Peter. •" Do you suppose it knows anybody 
who would be kind enough to come into our 
garden and tell us the sort of story we want 
to hear ? Ask it, Geraldine." 

So Geraldine, leaning forward, began, " O 
beautiful Humming Bird, do you know any 
traveler who would be kind enough to come 
into our garden and tell us about strange 
and wonderful countries?" 

" I certainly do," replied the bird in its 
sweet, happy little voice. " Are you children 
4 15 



Garden-Land 

in a hurry for your story? Because you see 
I have not quite finished my luncheon; the 
honey dew in these Canterbury Bells is de- 
licious, and I expect to find several tiny and 
tender insects in that scarlet begonia — " 
The bird, hanging in the air on misty wings, 
drifted from blossom to blossom, thrusting its 
bill deep into each, then darted toward the 
scarlet begonia and carefully explored every 
flower. 

" Now I'm ready !" it twittered cheerily. 
There was a whiz, a whir, a flash of green 
and ruby-red, and the smallest bird that ever 
visits the Eastern United States alighted on 
a spray of flowering syringa and, laying its 
brilliant head on one side, looked confidently 
at the children. 

" You certainly are magnificent," said 

Peter, enraptured; "you are nothing but a 

beautiful, brilliant jewel set in greenish gold!" 

"Oh, I'm rather handsome," said the hum- 

16 




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" 'A humming bird,' whispered Geraldine. 'The dear little thing- ! ' 



The Garden 

ming bird modestly, "but, dear me! you should 
see some of the other sorts of humming 
birds. I've a cousin, for example, who wears 
a velvet black hood over glittering turquoise 
blue; another cousin who is all scarlet and 
gold ; another who wears violet and copper 
color ; another — but, goodness me ! — my 
cousins are all rainbow-tinted, all sizes, all 
shapes, and I'd sit here for days if I were 
obliged to describe them. What was it that 
you said about a story, Peter ?" 

The splendidly tinted little bird looked at 
Peter with his head on one side, and Peter 
gazed back with his head on one side. 

u We were wishing, Geraldine and I, that 
some traveler who had been to strange and 
distant lands, would suddenly appear in our 
garden and tell us about astounding adven- 
tures. Do you know of any traveler of that 
sort around here?" 

" I do," said the humming bird. 

17 



Garden- Land 

" Do you think that traveler would be 
obliging enough to come here and tell us 
about the strange sights of the countries he 
has visited ?" asked Geraldine. 

"That traveler is already here," said the 
bird. 

The children sat up straighter in the 
grass and looked carefully around. 

"Where is he?" whispered Peter excitedly. 

"In perfectly plain sight," said the hum- 
ming bird. 

Again the children looked all around the 
garden. 

"But you don't look at meV said the 
little bird, twittering with amusement. 

"At youV exclaimed the children, per- 
plexed. 

"Certainly. I am a stranger, am I not?" 

"But — but you are not a traveler; I 

mean a traveler who has journeyed thousands 

of miles—" began Peter. 

18 



The Garden 

" Yes, I am," said the bird. 

"Thousands of miles? Into strange and 
distant lands ?" 

" Of course. I have just come from 
South America." 

"From South America !" exclaimed the 
children in amazement. 

The bird nodded its lustrous little head: 
" Every autumn as soon as the weather be- 
gins to turn chilly here in the North, we 
Ruby-Throats start on our winter travels to 
South America. Every spring, as soon as I 
know the flowers are in bloom in the North, 
I start for North America. Didn't you know 
that American ruby-throated humming birds 
always did that?" 

" No," said the children, astonished. 

" But you know that almost all of the 
song-birds go south in cold weather, don't 
you: 

"Yes," said Peter, "we know that the 

l 9 



Garden-Land 

swallows go south. But you are so very 
small — " 

" I can fly as fast as a railroad train," 
said the humming bird proudly. " I can keep 
up with the fastest swallows. 'Some of our 
swallows go to Mexico for the winter; some 
of our orioles and tanagers go to Central 
America. Many birds go no farther than 
Florida. But I keep straight on, high in 
the sky, speeding like a bullet. If I grow 
tired I drop to the earth in some warm, 
southern woodland and rest and feed for a 
little while. Ah, it is splendid ! — this great 
autumn bird-flight into the south ! I love it." 

And the beautiful little bird ruffled up 
its plumage until every jeweled feather 
sparkled. 

" Do you make that long journey all 
alone?" asked Geraldine in wonder. 

"No," said the humming bird; "I go with 

one of the great, popular bird excursions 

20 



The Garden 

which leaves North America for all points 
south every day and evening during the 
autumn. It is most exciting. For days we 
feel restless; we all know it is time to 
begin thinking about going south. Birds of 
every sort begin to gather in flocks, blue- 
birds, robins, sparrows, finches, orioles, yel- 
low-birds, all thronging the hedges and 
thickets. 

" Then, suddenly, a cloud of birds will 
rise in the air, circle about for a few mo- 
ments, turn southward — and the first excur- 
sion party is on the wing!" 

"How perfectly charming!" cried Geral- 
dine, "to have so many dear little com- 
panions! And do you travel all day and 
then rest at night?" 

" Sometimes. Sometimes we start at night, 
a vast flock of us rising up in the moon- 
light and rushing through the darkness south- 
ward under the stars. And sometimes we 

21 



Ga.rden-La.nd 

start by day, winging upward higher and 
higher until the noise of our wings and the 
twittering call of thousands of voices is too 
distant to be heard by earth people. Yet, 
on very still days in autumn, far up in the 
clouds, you may hear, if you listen, a faint 
sweet murmur of bird flocks winging south- 
ward. And on still, starry nights sometimes 
you may hear us passing high up in the 
darkness. Will you listen this autumn, chil- 
dren? I may be up there. " 

"Indeed we will!" said the children 
eagerly. 

The bird sat very still, for a while, as 
though thinking. Then: 

" Would you like to hear about my ad- 
ventures in distant lands under the equator ?" 

"Oh, please !" cried the children, de- 
lighted; and Geraldine sat straight up, cross- 
ing her legs and spreading her white kilts 
over her knees; and Peter lay out full length 

22 



The Garden 

on the grass, his chin propped up on both 
closed fists. 

"Is there anything about tigers in your 
story?" he asked. 

"Tigers? Well, yes; that is, there may 
be a word or two about what the South 
American Indians call a tiger — El Tigre they 
call the great spotted jaguar. Yes — there is 
a word or two about that sort of tiger. 
Shall I begin ?" 

"We are all ready," said the children; 
and their eyes began to open wider and 
wider. 




23 




CHAPTER II 



THE RUBY-THROAT 



I WAS born," began the bird, "in a tiny 
lichen-covered nest, which looked ex- 
actly like a little knob of bark on the 
limb where my parents had placed it. 

"The egg out of which I hatched was 
only about the size of a pea; and in the 
beginning I was not as large as a June 

beetle. " 

24 



The *Rtibjr- Throat 

"Were you born in South America ?" 
asked Peter. 

"Oh, no; I am a citizen of the United 
States," replied the bird proudly. " I was 
hatched in New York State, in the woods 
of Broadalbin. And when I was able to fly 
I often came into this garden ; and often 
and often while humming around the tall 
white phlox I have seen you and Geraldine 
wading in the stone-edged pool of the foun- 
tain, chasing those stupid goldfish." 

A big, fat goldfish flopped up out of 
the water with an angry splash. 

"We're not stupid!" cried the goldfish; 
"we are Chinese and you Americans don't 
understand our oriental simplicity!" 

"All right!" said the humming bird good- 
naturedly. " Keep cool, my celestial friend, 
and I'll leave you out of the conversation." 

So the big, fat Chinese goldfish sank 
slowly into the fountain pool and lay still, 

25 



Garden-Land 

calmly waving its ribbon-like tail fin, and the 
humming bird nodded at the children and, 
laying its head on one side, continued its 
story. 

"I had never been south; I was born 
only half a mile from this garden. So when 
it began to grow cool in the evenings, and 
a few leaves turned scarlet, and I saw birds 
of all kinds gathering together in the thickets, 
I asked another humming bird, who was 
older than I, what it all meant. 

" Then, too, I heard the goldfinches and 
indigo birds talking about it, and very soon 
I saw the first excursion leave for the south: 
several thousand birds of all sorts — robins, 
swallows, bluebirds, wrens, orioles, all start- 
ing for southern resorts. 

" Several birds said to me : ' Don't \frait 

too long. Don't wait until you hear the wild 

geese and the snipe. They stay too late for 

you. You had better come with us/ 

26 



The *Rubjr-T/?roaf 

" I don't suppose you could endure the 
snow, could you?" asked Peter. 

"Snow! Mercy, no! I couldn't even en- 
dure a hard frost ! It would be my finish. 
I require the hottest sunshine. So you see 
I began to think about starting; and, the 
very next day a dozen of us humming birds 
joined a big flock of assorted song birds and 
started just after sunrise. " 

"How did you know the way?" asked 
Peter curiously. 

" To tell you the truth," confessed the 
humming bird, " I don't know how we birds 
know the way. It is something born in us 
that we can't explain. You know what the 
five senses are, don't you?" 

"Yes," said Geraldine; and she began count- 
ing on her five slim fingers. " First comes 
sight \ that makes one! Then taste ; that makes 
tw r o! Then hearing, three; touch, four, and 

smell, five! Those are the five senses." 

27 



Garden-Land 

" Exactly," said the bird; "but to that 
you must add a sixth sense, called the sense 
of neariiess to things \ and a seventh sense, 
the sense of direction!' 

" But we don't possess those senses," 
began Peter. 

"No; but we do," rejoined the hum- 
ming bird, twittering with laughter. 

Amused, yet a trifle humbled, the chil- 
dren looked curiously at the bird. 

" It is probably this seventh sense, the 

sense of direction, which guides us in our 

journey," resumed the bird thoughtfully. 

" We usually follow the same air line, too, 

which, in certain places, takes us out over 

the ocean. I don't know why we do this; 

it is not the shortest cut to our destination. 

Some birds think that our flight marks the 

ancient coast line of the continent, and that 

we inherit the instinct to follow it as did 

our ancestors many, many ages ago." 

28 



The *Rtiby-Throcit 

The bird scratched its jeweled head with 
one tiny claw. " But, to resume, we started 
several thousand strong on our excursion. 
Over Virginia and North Carolina the robins 
bade us good-by and dropped to earth; the 
bluebirds were the next to go; the che- 
winks left us in Florida; the orioles in Mex- 
ico; then the remaining orioles and tanagers 
dropped earthward over Central America, 
and we humming birds stopped over with 
them for a few days, then continued leisurely 
southward to Brazil." 

" Where the tigers come from!" exclaimed 
Peter. 

"Yes, El Tigre, the jaguar/' 

"Did you see him!' breathed Peter in 
raptures. 

" I certainly did," replied the humming 

bird. " One hot morning I was humming 

around the edges of the jungle where a 

great river flows under clustered creepers and 

29 



Garden^ Land 

masses of gorgeous flowers. I had been 
breakfasting among the wild gladiolus blos- 
soms, and was looking around for a different 
kind of honey to end my breakfast, when, 
suddenly, right out of the tuft of flowers and 
creepers a huge paw shot up and made a 
lightning-like slap at me." 

The children, rigid, stared at the bird. 

"I dodged," said the bird, "but almost 
lost my balance in the swirling eddy of wind 
made by the swift stroke of that terrible 
paw." 

"It was a jaguar's paw!" cried Peter ex- 
citedly. "Wasn't it?" 

" It was," said the bird solemnly. 
" Hovering above the thicket I looked fear- 
fully down. There, under the creepers, 
sprawling luxuriously on his back, lay a 
great spotted jaguar blinking up at me with 
eyes that glimmered like green jewels. I 

watched the fearsome beast with a dreadful 

30 



The *Rtiby -Throat 

sort of fascination holding me to the spot; 
and twice I saw him strike again, once at 
a dragon fly, once at a big, shining butter- 
fly. Then he rolled over and yawned and 
stretched his claws and lay switching his tail. 
It was all in play, I suppose; the jaguar 
was feeling good. But if that paw had hit 
me ! 

The bird shivered and his voice ceased. 

" What a perfectly horrid adventure," said 
Geraldine with a shudder. 

" But you probably had more of them," 
added Peter hopefully; "didn't you nearly 
lose your life several times?" 

" I should think I did," said the hum- 
ming bird. " Once when I was flying around 
a thicket of wild geraniums in company with 
a dozen other humming birds, a snake struck 
suddenly from among the thick leaves and 
caught the bird beside me. That was a 

danger to which we were always exposed. 
6 31 



Garden-Land 

But there was another danger worse than 
that/' 

" What could be worse than that?" asked 
Geraldine. 



" Spid 



ers 



I" 



"Spiders! Why, spiders couldn't catch a 
bird — even such a little bird as you ! " said 
Peter. 

" Not these harmless spiders around here," 
said the bird, amused; "but there is one 
kind of spider in South America which 
spins a web strong enough to entangle and 
hold fast a bigger bird than I am. He's 
bad enough, but there is another spider, as 
big as Peters fist, a furry, soft-stepping, sly 
creature who creeps after birds. 

" One day I was sitting on a twig of a 

camphor bush, dozing in the heated shade, 

but opening one eye occasionally to see what 

the monkeys were about. You can never 

trust one of those South American monkeys. 

32 



The *Rxiby- Throat 

He may think it funny to make a grab at 
you, or he may throw a green guava at you, 
or he may spring onto the limb where you 
are sitting and frighten you out of your wits." 

Peter began to laugh. 

" It sounds rather amusing, but it isn't 
really funny," said the humming bird. " I 
would rather take my chances with real 
dangers than be kept busy avoiding the prac- 
tical jokes of a miserable monkey ! 

" Well, as I was saying, I sat there doz- 
ing, one eye opening at times to look out 
for the monkeys who were frisking about in 
a mahogany tree near by. 

"One old monkey came out along a limb 
and shouted to me : ; Look out ! ' 

" I paid little attention to him, but kept 
my eye open. 

"'Didn't you hear me say, "look out"?' 
screamed the monkey. 

" I shrugged my wings in contempt. 

33 



Garden-Land 

"'All right, then!' shouted the monkey; 
1 it's your own fault/ 

"Almost at the same moment I saw 
something flying at me through the air. I 
thought he had thrown a big nut at me, and 
I whizzed up into the air just as something 
struck and stuck clinging to the very spot 
on which I had been perching — an enormous 
spider! — wicked little eyes glittering, great 
hairy jaws, and claws wide spread. 

" Come, now, Peter, what do you think of 
that for an adventure ?" 

"Tremendous!" cried Peter with enthu- 
siasm; "perfectly splendid! Did you immedi- 
ately attack that spider and defeat him in a 
pitched battle ?" 

" No," said the humming bird, "I didn't. 
I was frightened and angry; I hovered above 
him in the sunshine, and my crest rose and 
I uttered some furious squeaks. Other birds 
heard me and came flying to see what was 

34 



The *Rtiby -Throat 

the matter; and in a few moments there were 
dozens of birds of all sorts flying around the 
branch where that big bird-spider squatted, 
all scolding and shrieking and screaming for 
somebody to come and attack the spider." 

" Oh, I hope somebody came ! ' exclaimed 
Geraldine, clasping her hands; "some brave 
champion who dared to engage that horrid 
creature in single combat!" 

" It was rather singular," said the hum- 
ming bird, "but nobody seemed to care to do 
battle with that great, hairy, hideous insect. 
The monkeys sat in rows on the branches 
of the mahogany tree and chattered and 
shivered, but they didn't even throw pods 
and nuts at the spider. A toucan with a 
big horny bill that could easily have crushed 
our enemy, hopped along the branches to 
look at him, and then went back to pick 
guavas and toss them into the air and swal- 
low them. And dozens of parrots hung head 

35 



Garden-Land 

downward to look at the spider and squawk 
at him; and the flying squirrels peeped down 
at him ; and an old ant-bear sat up on his 
haunches and wriggled his long fleshy snout 
at him, but nobody did anything, until " 

The bird paused. 

" Until — " repeated the children expect- 
antly, fairly wriggling with anticipation. 

" Until, suddenly, with a deep, loud, 
angry buzz-z ! an enormous hornet appeared. 
'Buzz! z-z-z-r-r! buz-z! Where is he? where's 
that spider? Where is that big, fuzzy bird- 
killer, who is looking for a fight?' 

"'There he is! There he is!' twittered 
the birds in high excitement. ' There he is, 
crouching on that old mossy branch ! ' 

"The huge hornet saw him, swooped down- 
ward, and began circling above the spider, 
who raised himself on his heavy, hairy legs 
in a frightened attitude of defense. Then, 

all at once, the great spider turned and ran 

36 



h *£ 




"An enormous hornet appeared. . . . 'Where is he? Where's that spider? 



The TKtiby-Throcil 

for his life. But the hornet darted at him, 
and with a terrible thrust of her sting tum- 
bled the bird-eater clean off the branch so 
that he fell, bouncing and sprawling, on the 
dead leaves below !" 

"Three cheers !" cried the children ex- 
citedly. "Hurrah for that brave hornet! Was 
it all over with the terrible bird-spider ?" 

"All over," said the humming bird. 
"The hornet dragged him off and prepared 
him as a dinner for the young hornets which 
were soon to hatch out of the eggs laid by 
the old hornet." 

Peter drew a deep contented breath. 

" This," he said, " is far pleasanter than 
reading Nature Books. Nobody would dare 
call this humming bird a nature faker." 

"What are Nature Books?" asked the 
humming bird. 

" They are books," explained Geraldine, 
"written by invalids who are not well enough 

37 



Garden^ Land 

to do other things. Some sell lead pencils, 
some play on accordions, and some write 
Nature Books. Father told us that" 

"And, oh, goodness, how they do quarrel !" 
added Peter with a shrug. " I'd rather listen 
to you." 

"Why do they quarrel?" asked the hum- 
ming bird, surprised. 

" I suppose it's because they are not very 
well," said Geraldine gently. " The feeble are 
often irritable, you know. Father says we 
must make allowance for those who rock in 
rocking chairs and knit nature stories about 
i Ki-yi, the Poodle-pup ' and ' Twilly-Wee, the 
Dicky-bird/ " 

Peter nodded : " We children would like 

the stories if the people who wrote them 

wouldn't be so uncivil to one another. If 

they'd only let us alone we would be quite 

happy to believe the story of Puss-in-Boots 

and King Stork and the Lion and the Mouse. 

38 



The *Rtiby -Throat 

But they won't let us alone," he added with 
a sigh; "will they, Geraldine?" 

"No," sighed Geraldine, "and they won't 
let each other alone. Just now they're all 
very angry because one harmless old lady 
knitted a story about a pointer dog who, when 
out hunting with his master, would stop at 
intervals and call his masters attention to a 
particularly fine bit of scenery or an unusually 
pretty view, by pointing it out with his fore 
paw." 

" I don't see anything in that story to 
arouse anger in anybody, ' observed the 
bird. 

" We don't, either," said Peter ; " but our 
Great President says that the old lady ought 
to be arrested for scattering untrustworthy in- 
formation concerning animals." 

" Why not ask some animal friend whether 
it is true or not ? " suggested the bird. 

" We did ; we asked our cat, Ladysmith, 
7 39 



Garden-Land 

about it, but she only smiled and stretched 
and yawned, and walked off, gently waving 
her carefully groomed tail." 

" The only way," said the humming bird, 
"is not to read Nature Books." 

" But we like to read them," insisted the 
children. " If only celebrated people wouldn't 
quarrel about them we would be quite happy 
and contented with our nature stories. Be- 
cause really it makes so little difference, and 
it is very easy to prove for yourself the truth 
of any statement about Outdoor Land." 

" Yes," nodded Geraldine, " one can al- 
ways investigate for one's self, you know. 
There was such a distressing scene on our 
lawn last week. A very, very old gentleman 
told father that after twenty years of research, 
hardship, peril, and reckless investigation, he 
had succeeded in ascertaining that there were 
exactly forty-seven thousand one hundred and 

three hairs on a clover-fed, Broadalbin wood- 

40 



The *Bxiby-Throa.t 

chuck weighing three and three-quarters 
pounds. 

"And no sooner did he make this state- 
ment than another old gentleman from Cran- 
berry Creek flew into a frightful fury and said 
it wasn't true and that he intended to write 
to our Great President and complain. " 

" But — but what has our Great President 
to do with natural history ? " exclaimed the 
poor little humming bird in amazement. 

" We don't exactly know," confessed the 
children, "but somehow our Great President 
seems to be a part of everything that ever was 
and now is. Father says that we nearly had 
war because once, at an Official Garden Party, 
our Great President heard the Ambassador 
from Yucatan repeating a poem which, it ap- 
pears, was not scientifically accurate." 

"What poem?" asked the puzzled bird. 

" Why, the Ambassador was only repeat- 
ing : 

4i 



Garden-Land 

" ' Ladybug, Ladybug, 
Fly away home! 
Your house is afire! 
Your children will burn ! ' 

And our Great President became so in- 
censed — because Ladybugs don't have houses, 
you know — that he made the proud Re- 
public of Yucatan recall her Ambassador as 
a corrupter of the public mind ; and we would 
certainly have had a terrible war with Yucatan 
if another diplomatic situation had not driven 
the Yucatan incident out of our Great Presi- 
dent's mind." 

" W-what happened ? " asked the hum- 
ming bird faintly. 

" Why, you see," said Peter, " our Great 
President, observing one day that the Austrian 
flag was decorated with a two-headed eagle, 
became greatly worried, and wrote to John 
Burroughs about it, inquiring if, in Austria, 

there existed a species of eagle wearing two 

42 



The *Rtiby-Throcit 

heads. And our beloved John Burroughs 
telegraphed back one curt, trenchant, and 
laconic word : ' Fake ! ' " 

" What is a ' fake ' ? ' inquired the poor 
little humming bird. 

"A fake," replied Peter, "is anything that 
our Great President does not approve of. So 
our Government very kindly but firmly ad- 
dressed a note to the Austrian Government, 
calling attention to the unscientific aspect of 
that country's flag, and deploring the reckless 
dissemination of such inexcusable inaccuracy, 
and its unfortunate effect upon the children of 
the universe. " 

"What happened ?" asked the humming 
bird fearfully. 

" We had got as far as calling out the 
Seventh Regiment, ,, said Peter, "and the in- 
habitants of Boston were fleeing inland, when 
the entire incident was forgotten in the ex- 
citement over our Government's demand that 

43 



Garden-Land 

China must substitute a dragon-fly for her 
dragon, or take the consequences, in the 
newspapers ! ' 

" W-wouldn't our Great President allow 
China to have a dragon on her flags and 
lanterns?' 3 inquired the bewildered bird. 

" No, because there is no such thing as a 
dragon, and children were being deliberately 
deceived at every lawn party. So then we 
sent a fleet and the Empress Dowager be- 
came so frightened that she compromised by 
promising to have a Shanghai hen em- 
broidered on every banner as the national 
ensign ; and the Audubon Society, and the 
National Woman's Union, and the Oyster 
Bay Tatting Circle sent telegrams of con- 
gratulation to the Empress Dowager, and our 
Great President sent a fearless message of 
thanksgiving to Congress, and everybody be- 
came quite happy again, and nothing now 
threatens the peace of the world except- — — " 

44 



The *Ru by- Throat 

" Except ?" repeated the dazed bird. 

" Except the Polish question." 

" And what is the P- Polish question ? " 
faltered the tiny bird. 

" Nothing — except that our Great Presi- 
dent is determined that the new Republic of 
Poland shall adopt, as her coat of arms, a 
Polecat, militant, on a brush-field vert, and 
one Moujik fuyant, with the motto in dog- 
Latin : 

"'Finem Respice!' 

The little bird nodded its brilliant head. 
" I've lived a good deal in Latin Republics, ,, 
he said, " and so I naturally understand Re- 
publican Latin. It's an excellent motto, I 
think, and no doubt the Polish people will be 
grateful to our Great President for suggesting 
it. He is a very, very great man; isn't he, 
children ? " 

" Very, very great," said the children 

45 



Garden-Land 

earnestly. Then, gravely joining hands, they 
stood up and sang " Hail to the Chief "; and 
the tiny humming bird respectfully lifted his 
crest and kept it lifted until the song had 
ended. 

"Now," said Peter more cheerfully, "let 
us talk about pleasanter things. Would you 
please tell us a few more interesting adven- 
tures of yours in South America ? " 

"Why, I just told you about my escape 
from the big bird-spider," said the little bird, 
ruffling and peering around with bright, rest- 
less eyes. 

But Peter was politely insistent. 

" That was a fine story," he said. 
"Would you be kind enough to tell us 
another?" 

The humming bird broke into a twitter- 
ing laugh. 

"The truth is, Peter, that I have a 

sweetheart and children in a nest over the 

46 



The *Rxiby -Throat 

hill by the windmill. Now you know that a 
fellow can't stay away too long under such 
circumstances. I'd like to stay here and tell 
you all about my wonderful adventures in 
Brazil, about those dreadful flowers that trap 
you if you attempt to feed on their honey, 
about that swift bird which chases you and, 
if it catches you, pins you to a tree with a 
big thorn through you. I'd love to tell you 
about those great butterflies with wings like 
sheets of tinted metal, and about — But 
I really must go, now." 

" But please, please tell us your name 
first ! " pleaded Geraldine. 

"Why, my name is Ruby-Throat. You 
see this color I wear on my throat ? That's 
the reason they call me Ruby-Throat. " 

"Does your sweetheart dress like you?" 
asked Geraldine softly. 

"No; she is — in my eyes — much more 
beautiful. She wears a soft gray color, and 



Garden-Land 

in certain lights a faint metallic green shim- 
mer plays over her feathers. And now, I 
must go, children. Shall I see you often 
here in the garden before I go south ?" 

"Oh, often and often !" promised the chil- 
dren. " As soon as we hear the whirring, 
buzzing sound of your wings we will come 
running " 

"Pooh!" exclaimed a thin, envious voice 
from the air somewhere close beside them, 
" that cheap, chromo-qplored humming bird 
isn't the only thing that buzzes. If you want 
buzzing — real, persistent, maddening buzzing, 
the real article — I'll supply it for you at no 
expense. Z-z-z-zip ! buz-z ! buzzz ! ! " 

"Whose voice is that?" demanded Peter, 
looking all about. 

"Mine! Ho! Ho! I'm crawling on your 

ear! Ha! Didn't slap me that time, did you, 

smarty! Z-z-zip! Buzz-z! Now I'm on your 

nose! Ho! Ho! Missed me again! Buzz!" 

48 



The *Rtibjr-Throcit 

" A Jly\" exclaimed Peter in deep disgust, 
" a sticky, buzzy, unpleasantly moist-footed 
fly! Whack him, Geraldine! whack him 
gently — just to frighten him away, but not 
hard enough to hurt him!" 




49 




CHAPTER III 



MUSCA, THE FLY 



WHACK whom?" inquired the fly. 
" You ! " said Peter. " Go away ! " 
" How rude, when I came here 
to be sociable !" 

"But we don't wish to be sociable with 
flies," began Geraldine. "Ugh! There you 
are on my cheek. How dare you!" 



Mti*sca, 9 the Fljr 

" Missed me again !" cried the fly, de- 
lighted as Geraldine's little hand came slap ! 
on her own rounded cheek. " Oh, my ! 
That's a splendid game. Let's play it some 
more! Now, it's your turn, Peter!" 

Peter, exasperated, slapped wildly at his 
own head; the fly settled on Geraldine's ear; 
she missed it; Peter missed again and rose 
wrathfully, swinging his cap at the persistent 

" I don't want to hurt you," he said ; 
" Geraldine and I do not wish to harm any 
outdoor creatures; but if you don't stop 
crawling and buzzing about our ears, I shall 
declare war!" 

The fly settled on a sun-warmed syringa 
leaf, and looked steadily at Peter. 

" Do you mean it?" asked the fly. 

" Certainly I do. As long as you stay 
peacefully on that leaf I won't whack you." 

The fly rubbed its fore feet together 

5i 



Garden-Land 

thoughtfully. "You don't care to play with 
me: 

" No, we don't/' 

"You're not very playful, are you?" asked 
the fly. 

"Do you take us for kittens?" demanded 
Peter. 

" Oh, something of the sort ! You walk 
on two legs, kittens go about on four legs — 
that seems to be the principal difference," 
said the fly. " But really that difference is 
a very small matter to a fly, you know. 
We are not particular; we are willing to play 
with any creature no matter how many legs 
they walk on." 

" It seems to me," said Peter, " that you 
are extremely stupid." 

" Well, do you know we are rather 

stupid," admitted the fly, crawling to the edge 

of the leaf and looking over at Geraldine. 

"We never seem to know when we are not 

52 



Mujrcci, the Fly 

wanted. It's a fatal failing in our family, 
and many of my relatives have lost their lives 
through it. Really I'm very much obliged to 
you for telling me that I'm not wanted here. 
It is very kind and very noble of you. 
You may have saved my life. Bless you, 
my noble preservers ! " 

" Do you mean usV asked Peter, aston- 
ished. 

''Certainly I do. Instead of slaying me, 
you very considerately tell me to go away. 
Why should I not thank you eloquently for 
thus nobly rescuing me from peril ?" 

Geraldine, much embarrassed, looked at 
Peter, who had turned red. 

"We don't wish to be uncivil/' said 
Peter, " but our parents have told us that 
flies cause illness." 

"What kind of flies?" asked the house fly. 

"Is there more than one kind of fly?" 
inquired Peter. 

53 



Garden-Land 

"One kind?" exclaimed the fly indig- 
nantly. " Why, the order of Hymenoptera, 
to which I have the honor to belong, prob- 
ably contains three hundred thousand different 
kinds of insects! I wish you children to un- 
derstand that we are of some importance in 
the world. And if it were not for our 
enemies, who make war on us every moment 
of our existence, we flies would rule the 
whole world!" 

"Who are your enemies?" asked Peter, 
somewhat impressed. 

"Do you mean mine?" 

"Yes, yours, for example." 

"Well, from the day I left my pupa in 
that heap of dead leaves there under the 
garden wall, about everybody in the world 
has been trying to murder me," said the fly. 
" This world is a terrible place for flies. 
Why, the awful adventures I have had 
would fill the fly leaf of a book!" 

54 



Musca, the Fly 

" Is that why they call that blank leaf in 
a book the fly leaf?" inquired Geraldine. 

" I suppose so," said the fly. " I suppose 
it is placed in every book so that anybody 
can write on it the history of their experience 
with flies. What other reason of any impor- 
tance could there be?" 

"Nonsense!" said Peter. "Who wants to 
write about flies?" 

" Let me inform you," said the fly with a 
sharp buzz, " that the greatest of scientific 
men have written volumes and volumes about 
flies. Think of it! Whole volumes full of 
nothing but fly leaves! And they are writing 
more and more all the time. One gentleman 
was kind enough to write a book about a 
cousin of mine who is charged with killing 
horses. My cousin's name is Tse-tse. An- 
other kind gentleman wrote about another 
cousin of mine who kills people by giving 
them anthrax. And now other kind gentle- 
9 55 



Garden-Land 

men are writing about me, accusing me of 
giving typhoid fever to indoor people/' 

"Do you?" demanded Peter anxiously. 

"I believe I do sometimes; but isn't it 
wonderful !" exclaimed the fly. "Just think 
how important we flies are becoming in the 
world! Relatives of mine give people yellow 
fever and malaria, other relatives bite, others 
drive people wild by crawling and buzzing. 
Really now, isn't it wonderful, children?" 

"Wonderful!" exclaimed Peter angrily. 

" Yes, wonderful, because we really don't 
mean to do all these curious things." 

" That is no possible excuse," retorted 
Peter. 

" Of course not. And the consequence 

is that our lives are filled with the most 

deliciously exciting adventures!" cried the fly 

gayly. "Take me, for example. I'm a house 

fly; my distinguished name is Musca domes- 

tica y and I am found all over the world, and 

56 



Mtifca,, the Fly 

I probably do an enormous amount of harm 
without meaning to." 

"You are," said Peter, "what my father 
calls a ' well-meaning idiot/ " 

" Exactly. I mean all right. But, after 
all, you indoor people are idiots, too. Why 
do you run after something you don't want?" 

" Run after what ?" 

" Why, typhoid fever." 

"But nobody runs after typhoid fever!" 
said Peter, astonished. 

" But if they catch it they must run after 
it," said Musca, the fly, "To catch anything 
you must chase it and seize it." 

" You are an idiot," said Peter scornfully. 
" I wish you would go away." 

The fly rubbed its fore feet reflectively, 
then began to polish its head and wings with 
another pair of feet. 

" How do I look, Peter?" inquired Musca 
presently; "fit to make a call at your house?" 

57 



Garden-Land 

"We have fly screens/ 1 said Geraldine. 
"You can't get in." 

"Fly screens! Oh, bother! I wanted to 
fly about the kitchen and be sociable. What 
on earth shall I do if you and Peter don't 
want to talk to me, and your house is 
screened? I'm dreadfully lonely." 

"Are you really lonely?" asked Geraldine 
pitifully. " Because if you are, and if you 
will not attempt to alight on Peter or on me, 
but will promise to sit quietly on that leaf, 
we will talk to you a little while. " 

"Very well," said Musca, much pleased; 
"what shall we talk about? About straw- 
berry jam ? Is there any in your house ?" 

"Never mind!" said Peter hastily. "Tell 
us about some of those adventures of yours." 

" Do you mean from the very beginning 
of my career?" asked Musca, much flattered. 

" Yes, from the beginning. Where did 

you come from, anyway ?" 

58 



Muscgl, the Fly 

" I was born, ,, said the fly with an irre- 
sponsible buzz, " in a heap of decaying leaves 
under that big grapevine which covers the 
wall over yonder. Mother laid a hundred 
eggs there. She would have laid more but a 
dragon fly caught and ate her " 

''How unpleasant!'' sighed Geraldine. 

" Oh, no ; dragon flies esteem us highly 
as an article of food," explained the fly 
proudly. " But to continue, I was a small, 
white, elongated ^gg t In six hours I turned 
into a white larva, and in the next five days 
I changed my skin twice because it became 
too tight for me. The sixth day my skin 
turned brown and hard and inside it another 
skin grew over me. I hid away inside my 
own skin for four days more, then I began 
to crawl out of my inside skin " 

"What!" exclaimed the children in amaze- 
ment. 

" Certainly ! I crawled out of one skin, 

59 



Garden-Land 

then out of the other; and when at last I 
was free there I stood, a beautiful black and 
gray and gauzy winged fly, the most magnif- 
icent of created creatures ! " 

" Do you really think you are beautiful ?" 
asked Peter seriously. 

" I know I am. Look at the iridescent 
fuzz on me! Look at the four highly orna- 
mental stripes on my neck! Look at the 
rainbow tints flashing on my delicate, gauzy 
wings ! I am a model of symmetry ; I have 
two enormous, compound eyes which cover my 
head; I have six legs with soft, spongy, sticky 
feet which enable me to walk on ceilings up- 
side down; I have a nice long tongue which 
is soft and made for lapping up liquids " 

"Where is your biting machine ?" asked 
Peter. 

-Why, I don't bite." 

" But flies bite in wet weather. Our gar- 
dener says so." 

60 




"'Ah!' sighed the fly, 'what a world of surprises this is to be sure!'' 



Mtisca, the Fly 

" Oh, that's a different kind of fly!" said 
Musca domestica; " that's the stable fly. 
He's a cousin of mine and he looks so much 
like me that it is difficult to tell the dif- 
ference, and so people say that we house flies 
bite in damp weather. But it isn't true; we 
have no beak for biting. It's my cousin who 
does that. In rainy weather he comes into 
the house, if you have no screens, and he 
bites like fury." 

"Well," said Geraldine with a sigh, "I'm 
glad there is one wicked thing which you do 
not do." 

"So am I," said the fly sincerely. 

" But you do give sickness to people, 
don't you ?" 

"Yes, and I sometimes fall ill myself. 

There's a tiny red mite that gets on me and 

drives me nearly crazy. Then there's a 

miserable sort of plant — a fungus — that grows 

on me and covers me with a gray fuzz. 

61 



Garden-Land 

Whenever you see a poor dead fly sticking 
to window or wall you will usually see a 
gray fuzz covering him. That fuzz is a 
plant. Isn't it terrible ?" 

" I suppose I ought to be sorry," said 
Peter cheerfully. 

" I suppose so," said the fly, "but I don't 
believe you can be. It is really almost im- 
possible to be sorry for the misfortunes of a 
fly. I learned that when only a few hours 
old. You see about a hundred of us hatched 
out together, all brothers and sisters — and all 
orphans, for a dragon fly had lunched on 
mother and a tiger spider had pounced upon 
father, and there we were alone in the world. 
It was rather sad, wasn't it, Geraldine?" 

" Rather," said Geraldine slowly. 

" Ah ! " sighed the fly, " what a world of 

surprises this is to be sure ! As I sat there 

on the wall, sunning my wings in company 

with my brothers and sisters, a black and 

62 



Mxisca., -the Fljr 

white tiger spider, which we all had supposed 
was only a little stain on the stone wall, sud- 
denly sprang at one of my brothers. My 
unfortunate relative gave one feeble and as- 
tonished buzz, and expired during the ban- 
quet which ensued. 

"Amazed and alarmed, several of us chil- 
dren started to fly to safer quarters, but alas ! 
three of us became entangled in spider webs 
and hung there whirling round and round, 
buzzing frantically, until the terrible spiders 
had rushed out to dinner. Inconvenient as 
it is to be on top of the table at dinner in- 
stead of sitting in a chair with bib neatly 
tied, wings brushed, and feet washed, yet we 
flies remember with pride that those who 
dine on us dine well. And I say with par- 
donable conceit that of all my hundred 
brothers and sisters scarcely half a dozen 
escaped making somebody happy at dinner. 

Dragon flies lunched and dined on us; hor- 

10 63 



Garden-Land 

nets pounced on us and bore us off to store 
up as food for their young; toads and frogs 
snapped at us, lizards seized us, fish leaped for 
us and caught us in the air above the pond; 
even our own relatives rushed joyfully to feed 
on us — I mean the robber flies who swooped 
on us and devoured us at every opportunity/' 

" It is perfectly wonderful/' said Peter, 
"that any flies are left in the world." 

" There wouldn't be unless we laid so 
many eggs and then hatched out so quickly. 
You see, every ten days the eggs hatch into 
flies; and we lay eggs all summer. So if 
thousands of flies around here lay hundreds 
of thousands of eggs, and in ten days the 
hundreds of thousands of flies that hatch out 
of these hundreds of thousands of eggs lay 
hundreds of hundreds of thousands of eggs, 
and these hundreds of hundreds of thou " 

" Oh, please stop!" cried Geraldine. 

"My head is buzzing!" 

64 



Muscci, the Fly 

" Buzzing !" exclaimed the fly, running 
across the leaf with lively interest. " Are 
you really able to buzz ? Then you, too, 
must be a sort of cousin of mine " 

But the fly never finished what he was 
saying, for right in the middle of his sen- 
tence something bulky and soft and mottled 
leaped into the air and snapped at him, and 
fell back into the thick grass, panting heavily. 




65 




CHAPTER IV 



KING SPECKLES AND KING SPOTS 



A TOAD!' exclaimed Geraldine, 
shrinking back against Peter. 
" Pie caught that unfortunate fly," 
echoed Peter. 

" No, I didn't," gasped the toad. " Ugh ! 
Whew ! I'm all out of breath. I really must 

sit down and catch my royal breath." 

66 



KJng SpecHJes and King Spots 

" It's about all you seem to be able to 
catch, " said Peter, laughing. 

" Come, now ! No impudence, " panted 
the toad. " If you are going to remain in 
my royal garden youVe got to be civil. 
Ugh ! Whew ! I'll have no nonsense from 
anybody in my garden, young man." 

"Your garden !" repeated the children, 
amused. 

''Well, whose is it then?" said the toad 
crossly. " It isn't yours, is it? You're not ab- 
surd enough to think it belongs to you, are 
you? And it doesn't belong to the goggle-eyed 
blue dragon fly, does it? Those big, floppy 
winged butterflies don't own it, do they? It's 
mine, I tell you; that is," continued the toad 
grandly, " I hold sway over the main part 
of it, including the flower beds, the lawns, the 
paths, and part of the water. The remainder 
of the water is controlled by my royal cousin, 

King Spotty. Together," added the speckled 

67 



Ga.rden-La.nd 

toad, sitting up and waving his little short 
fore foot, "my cousin, King Spotty, and I, 
King Speckles, hold full sway and dominion 
over this fair realm which the toiling indoor 
folk have labored to lay out for us." 

" Why, our great-grandfather had this 
garden laid out ! " said Peter. 

" I don't care whose great-grandfather 
laid it out," retorted the toad, " but my 
great-great-great-double and doubly double 
great-grandfathers fathers grandfathers an- 
cestor took possession of it as soon as the 
indoor hirelings had fashioned it to his satis- 
faction. In that year, also, King Spotty the 
First assumed control of all the navigable 
waters and ponds and streams and mud 
puddles and lily pads — " 

"Who in the world is King Spotty?" 
asked Geraldine. 

" King Spotty is the big and melodious 

bullfrog who sings motifs every evening. 

68 



Kjng Speckjes and King Spots 

He is the Lohengrin of the lily pads, the 
Siegfried of the sedges, the Tannhauser of 
the tanks ! He is the greatest vocalist on 
earth — the greatest monarch in the world 
except myself! I am greater. And now, 
children, as you have been graciously made 
aware of who is the real ruler of this royal 
realm, my royal highness will further permit 
myself to relate to you the astounding history 
of my regal life and dynasty." 

"Are you really going to tell us a 
story ? ' asked the children, greatly inter- 
ested. 

" When you speak to me," said the toad 
gravely, " have the goodness to address me as 
* sire. 

"But after all," observed Peter, "how can 
you be a king ? You haven't any subjects, 
have you ? " 

" Subjects ! Plenty of them. My subjects 

support me as do the subjects of other 

69 



Garden-Land 

kings. Every fly, every worm, every beetle 
in this garden is my subject." 

" Do they support you ? ' ; asked Peter. 

" Certainly. I eat them. I live on them. 
Isn't that supporting royalty ?" 

Peter nodded, perplexed. 

" Sire," said Geraldine, smiling, " are you 
really going to condescend to relate to us the 
history of your royal life ? " 

" There's a well-bred child for you ! ' said 
the toad, much gratified. " I'll make you a 
petty princess for that ! " 

" But I don't care to be a petty princess 
— sire," began Geraldine, laughing. 

"Tut! Tut! I don't care what you want 
to be. When I say you are a thing, you are 
it ! You're a petty princess now ; you can't 
help it. The subject is closed ! The royal 
lid is on. Silence ! and obey ! " 

"What am I — sire?" asked Peter respect- 
fully. 

70 



mJi^% > 




'"When you speak to me,' said the toad gravely, 'have the goodness to address 

me as " bire. 



King SpecKles and King Spots 

"I'll reflect; I'll think about it. It all 
depends on your court manners/' said the 
toad. "Keep quiet now. I'm about to relate 
to you some astounding legends of the utmost 
importance. " 

So the children sat up crosslegged on 
the grass, and the toad gathered himself into 
a squatty, saggy, humpy, dumpy lump; and, 
lifting his right fore foot, spread his soft 
pointed toes and waved them solemnly: 

" The beginning of my family history is 
clouded in mystery. That is a royal rhyme. 
I do them from time to time. That is 
another ! But, to resume : several millions of 
years ago there were toads. You indoor 
scientific folks have discovered our royal re- 
mains imbedded in ancient rock. 

" Legend plays the principal part in our 

early history. We were once believed to be 

poisonous. We are, mildly. That is, when 

we are alarmed we exude a milky fluid from 
11 71 



Garden-Land 

some glands and pores, and in some sorts of 
toads this fluid will irritate the skin of indoor 
people; and if injected under the skin will 
become more or less poisonous/' 

" I'm perfectly sure that I should never 
wish to touch you — sire," said Geraldine 
hastily. 

" Oh, even if you so far forgot yourself 
as to lay hands upon my royal person, no 
harm would come to you ! " said the toad. 
" A few of my distant relatives are mildly 
poisonous, as I said, but I am not. And, 
as for that other legend which pretends 
that every toad carries a jewel in its head, 
of course that is absurd." 

''We never believed that!" said Peter 
scornfully. 

" In making that remark," observed the 
toad coldly, "you have forgotten something." 

" Say ' sire,' whispered Geraldine ; " his 

royal highness is very particular." 

72 



King SpecKJes and King Spots 

" Excuse me, sire," said Peter politely ; 
"I forgot to say 'your Majesty' !' 

"That," said the toad, highly pleased, "is 
another well-bred child. I make you Baron 
of Broadalbin ! Your principal duty will be 
to catch flies for me." And the toad waved 
his toes graciously at Peter and resumed his 
story : 

"In the first place, toads are practically 
harmless. In the second, a toad in a garden 
eats the worms and flies and beetles and 
moths and caterpillars which might destroy 
the flowers and fruit and vegetables. There- 
fore it is money in your pocket to have toads 
in gardens. Therefore it is proven that a 
toad is a benefit to the human race. Please 
tell this to your gardener and warn him to 
be careful not to harm me when he uses 
his rake and his lawn mower." 

"We will, sire," said the children ear- 
nestly. 

73 



Garden-Land 

" I bestow upon you my royal thanks,'' 
said the toad complacently. " I promote 
Peter to be lord overseer of the garden rake, 
and Geraldine to be superintendent of the 
lawn mower with the title of Lady of the 
Royal Lawns and principal and particular 
puddle-princess to his Spotted Majesty, my 
cousin. To resume, " continued the toad, 
" I wish to correct the general impression 
that I am a reptile. I'm not; I resemble 
reptiles in some points, fishes in other par- 
ticulars, but I am an amphibian. Will you 
be good enough to remember that?" 

" We will try, sire," said the children 
earnestly. 

"An amphibian," repeated the toad, "is 
not a reptile, not a fish, but an amphibian. 
Ahem ! I like that name. It is sonorously 
important. It sounds exceedingly important, 
doesn't it ?" 

"Very, sire." 

74 



King SpecKles and King Spots 

"It certainly does. But, to resume: the 
difference between toads and frogs is partly 
in the bony framework of the body, partly 
in their habits. We toads pass most of our 
lives on land; the frogs live for the greater 
part of their lives in the water. 

"I am the ideal type of toad, children; 
I have a backbone, but no ribs; a smooth 
tongue which is sticky and which I dart out 
to catch any insect before I snap my jaws 
on him; the pupils of my eyes are not ver- 
tical like a cat's, or round like a bird's, but 
horizontal. My fore feet are not webbed, but 
my hind toes sometimes are. In winter I 
hide away in my Winter Palace under logs 
or stones or heaps of leaves; but as soon as 
warm weather comes again, I crawl out and 
come back to my royal summer garden. 
One thing more: no toad ever seizes an 
insect unless that insect is in motion. And 
now, children, you have a general description 

75 



Garden-Land 

of the most important of all living personages, 
the speckled garden toad." 

" Thank you, sire," said Peter, "but 
Geraldine and I would very much like to 
know whether tadpoles turn into toads or into 
frogs." 

"Your question is very sensible and prop- 
erly put," said the toad graciously. " Tad- 
poles turn into both toads and frogs. The 
smaller and darker tadpoles are usually the 
royal infants of my own race." 

" But, sire, how do they get into the 
water?" asked Geraldine. 

" When her royal highness, my wife, is 

ready to lay her eggs," replied the toad 

solemnly, "we both repair to the nearest 

pond. The eggs are laid in the water under 

our royal supervision. In due time they hatch 

into tadpoles, just as the eggs of frogs and 

of water lizards do. The difference is this: 

in the toads' and frogs' tadpoles, the hind 

76 



King SpecKJ.es and King Spots 

legs first appear; in the tadpoles of lizards, 
the front legs come first. " 

" Sire," said Peter, "we have seen tad- 
poles with tails and hind legs, tails and hind 
and front legs. But we never saw a toad 
or a frog with a tail." 

" The tail drops off after the four legs 
have budded and become perfect," said the 
toad. "There are no bones in the tail, you 
see. And as soon as it drops off the young 
toads leave the water and thereafter remain 
on land." 

" But, sire, how do they breathe when in 
the water ? " 

" Through gills like fishes." 

" And what happens to the gills when 
pollywogs turn into frogs and toads and 
come ashore ? " 

" The gills disappear, and frogs and toads 
breathe through lungs. We have perfectly 
good lungs — in fact we have everything of 

77 



Garden-Land 

importance that you have: eyes, ears, nose, 
tongue, lungs — and voices. But there is one 
thing," added the toad angrily, " that I will 
never forgive you indoor people. One of 
your scientific men says that our brain is of 
a very low order ! Think of it ! It is posi- 
tively the most insulting opinion ever ex- 
pressed by anybody about our royal family. ,, 

"But," began Geraldine timidly, "they 
say that about other kinds of kings some- 
times." 

" Do they ? " said the toad, greatly inter- 
ested. " Well, perhaps that is all right, then. 
It may be that a low order of intellect is ex- 
clusively a royal symptom. Perhaps we kings 
do not require " 

" Err-rrumph ! Gerrumph ! R-r-rumph ! " 
came a loud, deep, sonorous croak from the 
lily pads in the frog pond. 

" Hark ! ' exclaimed the toad, goggling his 

eyes in ecstasy, " my cousin is going to sing 

78 



Kjng SpecKJes and King Spots 

German opera! That is the puddle motif 
from " 

" Gerrumph ! Umph ! ' boomed the deep 
bass voice from the frog pond; and the toad, 
rolling his eyes, began to beat time with one 
mottled finger. 

For ten minutes King Spotty sang and 
King Speckles, entranced, beat time for the 
children's benefit. Then the big bullfrogs 
voice ceased. 

" Bravo ! What a magnificent interpreta- 
tion !" cried the toad. "He is practicing 
for this evening, you see. Our royal orches- 
tra is to have a general rehearsal, tree frogs, 
locusts, katydids, crickets, the deer mouse, 
our new soprano, a pair of whip-poor-wills, 
and the big hoot owl from the grove. 

"It will be superb, children, and you had 
better obtain permission from your parents 
to lie awake by the open window. You 
have my royal permission to listen, anyhow." 

12 79 



Garden-Land 

And the toad waved his spread toes at them 
with a gesture that was not very graceful. 

"Do you also sing, sire?" inquired Geral- 
dine, smiling. 

"There is," said the toad with a fat 
shudder, " a peculiar squeak which I utter 
on a certain painful occasion." 

"What occasion is that, sire?" asked 
Peter curiously. 

" When a snake grabs me," replied the 
toad in a low, trembling voice. 

" Why, are you afraid of a common little 
garden snake ? " demanded Peter scornfully. 
" I didn't think kings could be afraid of any- 
thing except other kings ! " 

" He says he's King of this garden, too," 
muttered the toad sulkily. 

" Who ? The garter snake ? " 

" Yes, that what he says." 

" Whom did he say it to ? " asked Peter. 

" To my wife — while he was swallowing 

80 



Kjng Speckjes and King Spots 

her. The dragon flies heard him, and came 
and told me." 

" And did you rush to the rescue and 
fight bravely for your beloved wife ? " ex- 
claimed Geraldine excitedly, clasping her 
little hands. 

" She wasn't much of a wife," said the 
toad. " I can easily get another at any 
time." 

"You mean that you didnt rush to the 
rescue ? " cried the children, horrified. 

"Well, I rushed about, more or less," 
said the toad — "until I found what I was 
looking for." 

"A weapon!" added Peter eagerly. 

"No, a— ahem! — a chink in the wall. 
And I scrambled in. It was a terrible 
defeat for that snake, I can tell you ! ' 

"A — a defeat!' faltered the children, 
astounded. 

" Certainly. He couldn't find me, could 

81 



Garden-Land 

he ? He was defeated in his intentions, 
wasn't he ? He wanted to find me and 
swallow me, but I prevented him. Therefore, 
as I have explained to you, I inflicted upon 
him a disastrous defeat." 

" You are not much of a warrior, are 
you ? " said Peter in disgust. 

" What's that ? Not much of a warrior ? 
Why not ? Haven't I just told you of one 
magnificent victory ? And when that big 
marsh hawk came sailing over the garden 
last year, didn't I inflict another terrible defeat 
on him by squatting motionless under a plan- 
tain leaf? If you talk about victories, you 
had better talk to me. I've won more vic- 
tories than all your Washingtons and Farra- 
guts and Napoleons and Nelsons and Wel- 
lingtons and Oyamas and Nogis rolled into 
one ! 

" It is pleasant, sire, to look at it in that 

way," said Peter. 

82 



King SpecKJe* and King Spots 

" Certainly, it is pleasant. It is my royal 
habit to look only on the pleasant side of 
life. That proves several things which you 
are too young to understand. Therefore, hav- 
ing amiably condescended to instruct you con- 
cerning my life history and the arts of war, 
I will now bestow upon you the freedom of 
the garden, and will continue my royal prog- 
ress and hunt flies. Be respectful and you 
will be happy. Adieu ! ' 

The toad once more rose to a half strad- 
dling position, waved his damp fore foot at 
the children, lost his balance, and fell over; 
then, scrambling to his feet, he moved off in 
the shadow of the wall, hopping, waddling, 
scuffling under the bushes until his speckled 
and mottled and unlovely form was lost in 
the cool gray shadows of leaves. 



83 




CHAPTER V 



THE CATERPILLARS 



WHAT a king!' exclaimed Geral- 
dine, looking at Peter. 
" What a king ! ' repeated Peter. 
" Supported by his subjects in such an 
extraordinary fashion ! ' added Geraldine. 
"Poor little subjects; it really does not pay 

them to support a king." 

84 



The Caterpillars 

" You are mistaken, " said a small, sticky 
voice from the foliage of the old grapevine 
overhead. " It's really great fun to have a 
king. It's simpler, too, than having a re- 
public. In a monarchy, the king eats every- 
body; in a republic everybody eats every- 
body else, and you never know when your 
neighbor is going to bite you or when you 
are going to bite your neighbor. So you see 
it is much simpler and safer to be afraid of 
only one monarch in a monarchy, than to be 
eternally dodging a million hungry uncrowned 
kings in a republic ! " 

The children stood up, listening curiously 
to the small, sticky voice, and peering about 
among the broad grape leaves for a glimpse 
of the orator. 

" I am perfectly right in my philosophy," 
continued the sticky voice. " I'll leave it to 
my fellow-subjects ! ' 

And suddenly, all around them the chil- 

85 



Garden-Land 

dren heard hundreds of keen, dry, rasping 
and stuffy little voices chorusing from bush 
and vine and shrub and flower: "Certainly, 
you are right ! The old Vine-Dresser is 
right. Hurrah ! for a monarchy where the 
king lives on his subjects and the subjects 
don't live on one another ! " 

" That," said Peter in a firm and rather 
loud voice, and turning a trifle red, "is trea- 
son. When the battle of Bunker Hill " 

" Hush," smiled Geraldine, laying her 
hand on Peters arm, which was beginning 
to wave like an orators; "they don't know 
anything about the battle of Bunker Hill. 
They're only caterpillars." 

" Did that sticky voice come from a cater- 
pillar ? Are all those tiny, clamoring voices 
the voices of caterpillars ? " asked Peter, begin- 
ning to laugh. 

Geraldine, bending forward, pointed at a 

large and rather pretty caterpillar resting on 

86 



The Caterpillars 

the midrib of a big grape leaf. The creature 
was a tender green color, like the color and 
texture of a translucent, unripe grape. It had 
a curved horn on its tail and a whitish, di- 
lated hood bordering its neck. 

" Hello," said the caterpillar amiably ; 
"you children have pretty sharp eyes to dis- 
cover me, considering how perfectly I match 
all this green foliage and fruit." 

" Where are all the others ? " asked Peter. 

"The other caterpillars whose voices you 
heard ? Oh, they're all around us, hiding 
very cleverly ! Some are formed and colored 
to resemble dead twigs, some look like bits 
of bark, some imitate pebbles or spots of 
lichen, some have sewed leaves together for a 
tent to hide in and a few — a very few — don't 
take any pains to hide, because neither King 
Speckles nor King Spotty of the Pond nor 
any of the outlaw birds would touch them 
on account of their sickening flavor." 

13 87 



Garden^ Land 

"If I were a caterpillar," said Peter, " I 
should like to have a sickening flavor." 

" Probably you have, anyway," observed 
the green Vine-Dresser caterpillar, " otherwise 
our King would doubtless have invited you 
to support him." 

" You mean he would have attempted to 
swallow me?" asked Peter, laughing. 

" Well, if you care to put it in such a 
crude and indelicate way — yes." 

" But I am about seven thousand times 
larger than his majesty ! " 

" It is plain," observed the green cater- 
pillar, wagging his hooded head in a jerky 
manner, "that you don't know much about 
the capacity of kings. Some of them can 
swallow millions and still feel hungry." 

"Millions of what?" 

But the green Vine-Dresser only jerked 

his hooded head from side to side and bit off 

an unripe bunch of grapes, muttering: " We 

88 



The Caterpillars 

know what a king can swallow; we know 
how much he can manage to tuck away, 
don't we, fellow subjects ? " 

And a thousand acrid, crisp little voices 
answered : " We do ! ' 

" The other king," said the green cater- 
pillar — "the music-mad monarch of the pond — 
has set the royal menu to music. Would you 
like to have us sing it for you ? " 

And the Vinedresser, beating time with 
his jerky head, began in a thick and sticky 
voice; and thousands of unseen caterpillars 
took up the culinary chorus: 

" The safest things a hungry King who 
eats his subjects, leg and wing — 

Horse flies, 

House flies, 

Stable flies that sting; 

Inch worms, 

Loop worms, 

Worms that crawl and cling; 

8 9 



Garden-Land 

Butterfly grubs and sleepy slugs 
And cutworms curled in a ring — 
Every brother respects the other 
And all support the King ! " 

"What nonsense !" said Peter. "The 
idea of thousands of freeborn caterpillars all 
furnishing food for one King — and that King 
a speckled toad!" 

The Vinedresser wagged his head slowly, 
saying: "We feed one King and then it's 
done; but if we were Republican, where 
every man's a freeborn King, then dinner d 
be a dreadful thing! 

" The rule is, when the freeborn dine, 

The One regales the Ninety-nine; and when 

the Ninety-nine must lunch, the Ninety-ninth 

regales the bunch ; at breakfast, too, it's 

understood that Ninety-seven eat the food. 

But living in a monarchy is simpler as you 

both will see, for when a hundred subjects 

dine, his Majesty eats ninety-nine, and sends 

90 



The Caterpillars 

the other for a bunch of subjects for to-mor- 
row's lunch." 

" Oh, dorit go on like that!" exclaimed 
Geraldine, placing her hands over her ears. 
" It is perfectly maddening to hear you 
drone on and on and on, and rhyme every 
sentence with the next one, especially as 
nothing that you say means anything " 

" The meaning of it is hidden inside, 
like a chrysalis in a cocoon," said the Vine- 
dresser; and he jerked his hooded head 
toward the edge of a tender young grape 
leaf, and began to munch with a crunching 
sound, his jaws working sideways like a 
tiny pair of scissors. 

" I suppose," said Peter doubtfully, " that 
we ought to tell our gardener to come and 
spray you if you are going to eat up all 
our grape leaves." 

" Now, Peter, don't be mean," said the 
Vinedresser earnestly; I do no particular 

91 



Garden-Land 

damage. Everybody can afford to let me 
have a few grape leaves during the summer 
— if only for the pleasure of seeing the 
beautiful moss-green and tan-colored moth 
which I shall turn into." 

"Goodness! Is he going to tell the gar- 
dener to spray us with that horrid London 
Purple mixture?" cried hundreds of little 
anxious voices. 

"I don't want to," said Peter, "but 
really it won't do to have you ruin the 
garden." 

" We are not ruining the garden, really 

we are not ! ' came the earnest, anxious 

chorus. "The frogs and toads and mice 

and birds and hornets and ichneumon flies 

keep us so thinned out that we do no real 

damage! If you spray us and destroy us 

you will see no more beautiful butterflies and 

moths in your garden next summer ! " 

" But some of you caterpillars do dam- 

92 




"'We are not ruining the garden, really we are not!' 



The Caterpillars 

age!" insisted Peter. "Look at that holly- 
hock all drooping and dying!" 

" That's my work," came an impudent 
voice from the ground. "I hide in the earth 
and under stones by day, and at night I 
crawl out and nip off flower stalks." 

"Why do you do it?" asked Geraldine 
sorrowfully. 

" I'm a cutworm, and I like to damage 
things. You can make war on me if you 
like. I don't care. You can't find me, any- 
way ! 

A beautiful green and black caterpillar 
on a fennel bush spoke up sharply: "We 
all have to suffer because those miserable 
cutworms do so much harm. They only 
turn into ugly little snuff-colored moths, any- 
how " 

"Snuff-colored yourself!" cried the cut- 
worm — " you cheap green chromo of a cater- 
pillar." 

93 



Garden~Lcinct 

The black and green caterpillar ignored 
the taunt, and continued: 

"If you indoor folk would destroy only 
the cutworms, the currant slugs, the tent 
caterpillars, and the caterpillars of the gypsy 
moth and brown-tailed moth, we other re- 
spectable caterpillars would never do any harm 
to anything. We are too few, anyway, to 
harm foliage or flower. We are not poison- 
ous, with the exception of the spiny green 
caterpillar of the beautiful Io moth — and 
his spines only sting like nettles if you 
handle him. Just think, children, what the 
world would miss if there were no lovely 
butterflies, no magnificent moths in the world! 
We harmless caterpillars turn into these 
handsome moths and butterflies, you know." 

" What is the difference between the 
caterpillar of a moth and that of a butter- 
fly ?" asked Geraldine. 

" I'll tell you," said green - and - black 

94 



The Caterpillars 

fennel caterpillar. "The caterpillars of butter- 
flies never are covered with hairs. They are 
either smooth or spiny. Some moth cater- 
pillars are also smooth or spiny, but some, 
also, have long hairs or thick fuzz on them. 
Another difference — the caterpillars of butter- 
flies never spin webs or cocoons to protect 
the chrysalis. Moth caterpillars usually do; 
or else they burrow into the ground when 
the time comes for them to turn into chrys- 
alides. Butterfly caterpillars do not burrow. 
The chrysalides of moths are smooth and 
shiny; the chrysalides of butterflies are knobby 
and angular, as a rule." 

" What sort of a chrysalis are you going 
to make?" asked Peter curiously. 

"When Fve eaten enough," replied the 
caterpillar, " I shall grow very restless, and 
crawl down to the earth from my fennel 
stalk and begin to wander about. And 
when Fve selected a safe shelter under some 
14 95 



Garden-Land 

wall or fence I shall attach a button of 
silk for my hind feet to hook into, and 
then I'll spin a single silk thread like a belt 
around my shoulders and attach the two ends 
to the wall so I can be supported by it as 
though slung up in a hammock. Then I'll 
split open up the back and a brown chrys- 
alis will appear; and there I'll hang in my 
chrysalis form until, in a couple of weeks, 
my back, breast, and head plates will split 
open and I'll crawl out." 

"What will you be then?" inquired the 
children eagerly. 

" At first only a moist little black creature, 

all legs and body and antennae or feelers, 

with two tiny, baggy lumps for wings. Then 

I'll pump butterfly blood into my wet and 

baggy wings, and they will grow and grow 

until, in a few hours, I'll be a full-grown 

black swallow-tail butterfly, with delicate 

swallow-tailed, velvet black wings spotted 

96 



The Caterpillars 

with golden yellow and powdered with a 
blue cloud, centered by a scarlet spot!" 

" How perfectly beautiful!" cried Geraldine. 

''And I," said a smothered voice from 
the folds of a nettle leaf growing on a tall 
stalk by the wall — " I am only a brown, 
spiny caterpillar now, but I shall be a Red 
Admiral and wear broad scarlet bands on 
my uniform and a few silvery white flecks 
and some purplish blue spots, too!" 

"And I," said a spiny black caterpillar 
covered with brick-red spots, who was mov- 
ing slowly up a willow twig, " I shall turn 
into the Camberwell Beauty, with rich velvet 
brown wings edged with cream color and 
bordered by violet spots." 

"And I," observed a knobby, humpy, 
lumpy caterpillar on a thorn-apple shrub, 
" intend to turn into a magnificent, purple- 
blue butterfly with dusty bands of lighter 
blue on my lower wings!" 

97 



Garden-Land 

Then the air became filled with tiny, 
eager voices all explaining about . what 
miracles of beauty they intended to turn 
into; and the children, bewildered by the 
tumult, sat down on the grass and strove 
to listen politely. 

"If you're afraid that we are going to 
tell old Phelim, the gardener, to spray you 
with London Purple," said Geraldine, "you 
need not be. Peter and I would never 
dream of harming you. I don't think that 
either of us would have the heart even to 
punish those ill-natured, ill-mannered cut- 
worms, either." And she brushed her curly 
hair from her eyes and stared very hard at 
the drooping hollyhock. 

"Why don't you and Peter feed the cut- 
worms to us?" broke in a thin, watery voice 
with a foreign accent. "We goldfish a±e all 
ready for a plump, juicy cutworm cutlet." 

" Ha! Ha!" jeered the concealed cut- 

98 



The Caterpillars 

worm; "nobody can ever find me. I'll give 
you leave to try, Peter; and if you do you 
can feed me to that idiot fish ! " 

" Do you think I'd bother about an ill- 
mannered cutworm ?" said Peter. 

" Don't you bother, brother," said a big 
black and white hornet who was walking 
rapidly over the garden path; " I'll attend 
to any cutworms in this vicinity if I find 
them." Then, addressing the concealed cut- 
worm, he shouted in a tiny, taunting voice: 
"Where are you, you ugly brown little grub! 
Let's hear that voice once more!" 

But the hidden cutworm said never a 
word, and the black -and -green fennel cater- 
pillar laughed and thrust out of his head 
two unpleasantly scented red, fleshy horns 
which keep hornets and such prowlers at a 
distance. 



99 




CHAPTER VI 



THE FISH POND 



DO you know," said Peter to Geral- 
dine, " I had no idea that there 
are so many different kinds of out- 
door creatures in our garden; had you, Geral- 
dine ?" 

" No," she said; "I thought there were 

just a few ants and bees and a butterfly or 

ioo 



The Fish Tond 

two and a wasp or two and several caterpil- 
lars. " 

" Pooh ! " said a blue wasp, sunning her 
steely w T ings on the sundial, " this garden of 
ours has more inhabitants than any city ever 
built by indoor people !" 

"The city of Pekin," began Peter, "which 
is in China, has millions of inhabitants/' 

"It's a village compared to our garden," 
said the blue wasp carelessly. " Count the 
number of kinds of creatures around here, 
for example. There is the ant — three or 
four kinds of him, and hundreds of thousands 
of each kind! Take the aphides! Myriads! 
Take the angleworms ! The soil of this 
garden is riddled with them! There are a 
dozen species of wasps, a dozen of bees, 
half a dozen sorts of dragon flies, half a 
hundred kinds of moths, as many of beetles; 
dozens of species of birds and fish, and 
reptiles, and animals and amphibians. Do you 

IOI 



Garden-Land 

know, for instance, that there are thirty-one 
species of birds which enjoy the freedom of 
this garden? There are scores of different 
butterflies " 

"Do you mean scores ?" asked Peter 
incredulously. " Scores means more than 
twenty, you know, and I can't believe that 
there are twenty different kinds of butterflies 
which visit our garden." 

" Here's the list, then," said the blue 
wasp. "Count them on your fingers, children: 
first, there are five kinds of Swallow-tails — 
the Yellow, Black, Blue, Green, and Giant; 
that makes five. Then, in order, comes the 
White cabbage butterfly, the gray-veined 
white, four kinds of yellow butterflies, nine 
kinds of fritillaries, four kinds of crescent- 
spots, the Buckeye, the Red Admiral, two 
kinds of Painted Ladies, the Camberwell 
Beauty, the Tortoise-shell, the Violet-tip, thfe 

Green Comma, the Hop Merchant, the Gray 

1 02 



The Fish Pond 

Comma, the Banded Purple, the Hybrid 
Purple, the Viceroy, the Monarch, the Vice- 
Reine, four kinds of Meadow Browns, the 
Metal Mark, two kinds of Coppers — that 
makes forty-six kinds already without count- 
ing the Blues and Hair-streaks, and Skip- 
pers and " 

" Oh, dear, oh, dear ! ' sighed Geraldine 
in dismay, " is it possible that all these kinds 
of butterflies live in our garden without our 
knowing it ?" 

" There are four times as many kinds of 
moths, too," observed the blue wasp. 

A thick, watery voice from the pond 
broke in: "How many kinds of flies are 
there ? IVe eaten about a hundred kinds, 
but they don't compare in flavor with the 
kind of flies I ate in China." 

" That must be the voice of our big 

Chinese goldfish," said Geraldine, walking 

across the grassy terrace and down the stone 
15 103 



Garden- Land 

steps to the pond. Peter followed and seated 
himself on the cemented border of the fish 
pond. The pond was really a great, symmet- 
rical basin brimming with crystal clear water 
and bordered by a stone terrace on which 
grew a riotous confusion of brilliant scarlet 
and flame-colored flowers, which the water 
reflected until it took on a tint of fire. 

Scores of goldfish, glowing like live coals, 
wiggled about in the transparent depths or 
floated near the surface, quietly finning the 
water where the fine dustlike spray of the 
fountain jet sprinkled the center of the pool 
with a rainbow haze. 

Under this lived two dignified sunfish, a 
bullhead, and a very small chubb who seemed 
to be of no use except for the other fish to 
chase about. 

But the biggest and reddest and hand- 
somest fish in the pond was a Chinese gold- 
fish. He was a deep, glowing scarlet in 

104 



The FUh Tond 

color; his fins were long, waving, ribbon- 
like streamers, and he looked as though he 
had three tail fins. 

The children, seated side by side on the 
edge of the pool, watched this beautiful fish, 
which had floated lazily to the surface of 
the water, his big staring eyes on the out- 
look for bread crumbs. 

" We haven't any," said Peter politely. 
"We are very sorry." 

" Perhaps you have a few flies in your 
pocket?" suggested the goldfish. 

" We don't carry flies in our pockets," 
explained Geraldine. 

"Why not? They're better than bread 
crumbs; better than worms. I don't know 
which you prefer," added the goldfish, " but 
I prefer flies." 

"We prefer bread," said Geraldine hastily. 

" Oh, bread is all right in its way," ob- 
served the goldfish with a yawn, " but there 

105 



Garden-Land 

is nothing like a fly diet to make you grow. 
Any fish will grow fatter on flies of different 
kinds than on bread crumbs or worms. Even 
that silly little chubb there knows that/' 

" But he doesn't seem to grow very fat," 
said Peter. 

" Because whenever we see him start off 
after a fly which has tumbled into the water 
we all rush after him and take it away from 
him," explained the goldfish. 

"You ought to be ashamed to be so fat 
and selfish!" said Peter indignantly. 

" Fd be ashamed if I were thin," retorted 
the cynical goldfish, wiggling his tail. 

"What kind of a fish are you, anyhow?" 
asked Peter. 

" I'm a carp." 

"A carp?" 

" One kind of a carp. Real carp have 

whiskers ; that is, they have thin, slender, 

fleshy threads hanging from their jaws which 

1 06 




"■■ Wwp 



•vj 



\ hf XV *VW,,u ,\ ^ i,„ 





Perhaps you have a few flies in your pocket?' suggested the goldfish.' 



The Fish Tond 

look like whiskers. But we Golden Carp, or 
goldfish, have no whiskers. That is one dif- 
ference between us. ,, 

"Are you named anything?" asked Geral- 
dine. 

" My name is Auratus." 

"Are you married ?" asked Geraldine. 

" I was in China. They took me away 
from my wife," said the goldfish. 

" Took you away ? What a shame ! " ex- 
claimed the children. 

" Oh, I didn't care much — only my wife, 
who was a Mirror Carp, used to lay about 
three quarters of a million eggs at a time 
and it was rather good fun to eat them up." 

" You don't mean to say that you ate 
your own wife's eggs!" exclaimed Geraldine. 

" Oh, anybody's wife's eggs — or my own 

wife's; it made no difference to me. That 

was the reason I was rather fond of my 

wife, who was not a goldfish but a big 

107 



Garden-Land 

mirror carp. She was a great egg layer. 
Oh, dear! Ah, me! I wish I had some 
now. But the eggs those spiny sunfish lay 
are not the kind that my wife used to lay. 
Besides, the sunfish chase me away if I try- 
to get a few eggs for breakfast! It's a cold 
world, and everybody is most unreasonable." 

"Are you good to eat?" asked Peter 
indignantly. "If you are IVe half a mind to 
catch you." 

"In my opinion youve only half a mind, 
anyhow," said the goldfish, " because if you 
had a whole mind you'd know that I am not 
worth eating." 

"I wish you were!" repeated Peter, turn- 
ing red. 

" You're jealous of me ; you're even turn- 
ing red to resemble me in color," said the 
goldfish. "I suppose you think that if you 
came into the pool and swam around you'd 

grow fins like mine." 

1 08 



The Fish Pond 

" And what," said Peter angrily, " do you 
suppose would happen to you if I dipped 
you out of the water in my fish net and laid 
you on the grass ?" 

" I wouldn't care as long as somebody 
kept my gills wet," replied the goldfish. " I 
could live very comfortably out of water for 
a while if my body and gills were kept wet. 
But" — and here the big, fat goldfish deliber- 
ately turned his tail toward the children — " I 
am tired of this conversation. Hereafter if 
you desire the honor of conversing with me 
you had better bring your pockets full of 
something for me to eat; otherwise I shall 
not bother about you." 

And all the other little goldfish wiggled 
their tails in derision and swam off into the 
center of the pond, calling back to the chil- 
dren: "No bread crumbs, no stories: We 
Chinese know our business better than you do ! 

And you may wave your hands at us and 

109 



Garden-Land 

pretend that they're fins like ours, and you 
may turn as red in the face as you please, 
but you are not goldfish and you can't be 
goldfish, and you'll never, never be able to 
turn into goldfish or anything else Chinese ! ' J 

"What unmannerly fish!" said Geraldine, 
greatly annoyed. " Splash in the water with 
that stick, Peter, and frighten the selfish 
things out of their senses." 

So Peter and Geraldine splashed in the 
water with sticks, but the goldfish paid no 
attention to them, and presently the children 
tired of it and sat down on the grass, laugh- 
ing and a little ashamed of their anger. 
" They're only fishes after all," observed 
Peter, " and Chinese fishes at that. Nobody 
does anything for anybody in China unless 
somebody gives them a present. So, you see, 
if we wish the goldfish to tell us stories we 
must bring them bread crumbs after this." 

"Bring us a few, too!" cried a hundred 

1 10 



The Fish Pond 

tiny voices from the grass; ''we're very fond 
of bread crumbs." 

"And who may you be?" asked Peter. 
"Oh, I see you now; you are ants!" 

" Listen hard and you can hear us sing- 
ing as we go about our work," answered the 
ants cheerily, running to and fro among the 
grass blades. " We are the working ants. 
Nancy, the queen ant, sings the latest popu- 
lar songs to encourage us — like: 

"Everybody works but Nancy, 
And she sits around all day 
Laying her eggs in thousands 
Under the sand and clay, 
The workers they bring insects 
To feed the infant ants, 
The soldiers guard the city 
And likewise Nance. 

"Isn't it inspiriting? And you ought to 

hear the soldiers marching off to some foreign 

ant city to make war and capture slaves, sing- 
is in 



Garden-Land 

ing ' Soldiers of the Queen ' ! We are a won- 
derful people! — perfectly wonderful! Nobody 
can conquer us; nobody can lick us -" 

Whiz-z! whirr! came the humming bird 
and hung hovering before the children. 

" Did those ants say that nobody can lick 
them?" twittered the humming bird. "Well, 
just tell them that down in Brazil there is 
an old ant-bear who roots up their cities and 
rolls out his sticky tongue and licks up a 
couple of thousand ants at one gulp!" 

"We don't believe it!" shrieked the ants 
in a fury. 

" Go to South America and see," twittered 
the Ruby-Throat, darting about in the last 
rays of the sinking sun. " Good evening, 
children! Sundown is bedtime for me. It's 
only fair, you know, anyway, because the 
great, gray humming-bird moths ought to 
have the evening free to feed on the honeyed 
blossoms." 

I 12 



The Fish Pond 

And the tiny bird darted away, seeming 
no bigger than a bee in his zipping, bullet- 
like flight. 

" Gr-r-rumph ! R-r-rumph ! Er-r-rumph ! " 
said the big bullfrog. " Howdy -do, chil- 
dren. Would you oblige me by hitting 
that old water snake over the head with a 
stick ! " 

" Snake ! " exclaimed Geraldine ; " what 
snake! Is there a snake in our garden ?" 

" I see him," said Peter in a low voice. 
" He's lying in the water under those lotus 
leaves, but I'm not going to hurt him be- 
cause, you remember, we've been told that 
there are no poisonous snakes in our Outdoor 
Land." 

■" I don't care whether he's poisonous or 
not!" grunted the bullfrog; "he means to 
swallow me, that's what he means to do." 

"Do you?" said Geraldine severely to the 
lazy water snake, who had turned his head 

"3 



Garden-Land 

and was watching the children out of two 
very bright and unwinking eyes. 

" Oh, I had some such sort of idea," 
drawled the water snake, " but if he's going 
to kick up such a row and make things un- 
pleasant, Fd as soon go back to the big lake 
below the swinging bridge and make a fish 
dinner as usual. " 

"Certainly I'm going to kick up a fuss," 
said the frog sulkily. " I don't object to be- 
ing grabbed by a garter snake or a black- 
snake, but you have no business in this 
garden, and if I'm going to be swallowed I 
don't desire to fatten a foreigner." 

" You'd better go, you see," nodded Geral- 
dine. "You don't really belong in our gar- 
den." The snake slowly glided through the 
water with a bored expression. Its tongue 
flickered in and out as it moved toward the 
outlet to the pool which drained into the 

larger lake. 

114 



The Fish Pond 

" There's nothing to dine on here, any- 
how/' hissed the snake — "only a few cheap 
goldfish and a half-witted minnow and a fos- 
silized old frog " 

" Wretch !" shouted the goldfish and the 
frog and the little nervous minnow; "you've 
been hanging around here for days trying to 
catch us ! " 

"You're mistaken," retorted the water 
snake placidly. "I'd as soon swallow a chest- 
nut burr as those spiny sunfish or that 
prickly finned old tabby fish " 

" Gz/fish!" cried the bullhead in a fury; 
"don't you dare call me a tabby fish, you leg- 
less land eel, who pretends to be a snake!" 

" Meow ! Tabby ! Tabby ! Tabby ! " 
sneered the water snake as it swam past the 
children and entered the outlet. 

"Are you poisonous?" inquired Geraldine 
timidly. 

"No. But some of my relatives are," said 

115 



Garden- Land 

the water snake, "so it's best for indoor people 
to let us alone." 

"We wouldn't harm you, anyway," said 
Peter. 

" I don't exactly know whether or not I 
would harm you if I could, " said the snake. 
"But I can't; IVe no poison fangs, so let it 
go at that and credit me with benevolent 
intentions. However, children, remember one 
thing: if you are ever in a country where 
there are salt-water snakes, I mean sea snakes, 
keep away from them, for every species of 
sea snake is poisonous. Good night; by the 
time you're abed I'll have dined on a young 
pickerel or perhaps a mouse or" — and the 
snake turned its slender neck and leered back 
at the bullfrog — "or, perhaps, if I can't do 
any better I'll have to dine on a few tasteless 
frogs " 

"Villain!" shouted the frog from his 

throne on a lily pad, "my hind legs are deli- 

116 



The Fish Pond 



cious! I'll have you know that Fma delicacy 
and a — " But the water snake merely flour- 
ished its slender pointed tail derisively, and 
vanished into the swiftly flowing outlet. 




117 




CHAPTER VII 

THE NIGHT PEOPLE 

IT grew very still in the garden. Far in 
the eastern sky a little pile of snowy 
clouds began to turn pink. The Red 
Admiral butterfly on the zinnia blossoms 
flickered his scarlet-banded wings and nudged 
the gorgeous Painted Lady on the next flower 
to his, saying : 

118 



The Fight People 

" Madam, it's growing rather late in Gar- 
den-Land and we'd better furl sail and come 
to anchor for the night." 

" It's high time," said the Painted Lady 
irritably; " a big night moth came whizzing 
around a moment ago and almost jostled me 
off my six legs." 

" Certainly it's time for decent day people 
to retire," observed the Idalia butterfly to the 
Painted Lady. " Would you believe it, my 
dear! — a great, clumsy green Katydid woke 
up a moment ago and began to walk on my 
gown until I was perfectly sure he had torn 
the blue skirt to ribbons!" 

The Viceroy butterfly stretched his wings 
and turned round and round on the scented 
phlox, saying sleepily: "The California poppies 
closed up long ago; the water lilies are tight 
shut ; the clover is curling up. Where do 
you sleep to-night, Admiral?" 

" Upside down, wings furled, under a 

hollyhock leaf." 

17 119 



Garden-Land 

" A buckwheat stem for me," observed the 
lovely Idalia butterfly; and she invited the 
Painted Lady to remain overnight with her, 
offering a comfortable stalk of buckwheat 
beside her own, which the Painted Lady 
gracefully accepted. 

" A maple tree for mine," said the Vice- 
roy to the Monarch butterfly; "come on, your 
Majesty; there's no dew under the leaves." 

So one after another the beautiful butter- 
flies rose into the air and flew away to their 
bedrooms, the Painted Lady with her friend 
Idalia flying rapidly toward the buckwheat on 
the hill, the Red Admiral settling to sleep on 
his hollyhock; the Viceroy and the big, red- 
dish-brown Monarch fluttering fussily around 
and around the darkening foliage of the silver- 
maple tree in search of the snuggest and 
driest leaf for a resting place. 

A faint rosy glow still lingered in the 

garden and a pair of tiny humming creatures 

1 20 



The flight People 

still buzzed over the verbenas. They were 
pretty little creatures with clear, transparent, 
and gauzy wings like the wings of bumble- 
bees, and golden-banded, fuzzy bodies which 
looked like the bodies of bumblebees. 

"You look just exactly like bees!" called 
out Peter to the two little moths; "and some- 
times you look like the tiniest of tiny hum- 
ming birds with your white throats and fan- 
tails spread." 

"We are not bees, we are bee moths," 
said the little things. " Some people call us 
the Clear-wing Sphinx ; some, the Day-flying 
Humming-bird Moth. Take your choice, 
children." 

"Are you going to fly all the evening?" 
asked Peter. 

" Oh, no, we are day flyers," answered the 
cheerful little voices. " We are going to bed 
in a few moments to give the dusk flyers a 
chance at the Garden-Land honey. It's only 



121 



Garden-Land 

fair, you see. And then when the dusk flyers 
have had their fill, they will go to bed and 
give the night flyers a chance. " 

" And when the night flyers go to bed," 
ventured Geraldine, " the day flyers will wake 
and begin, I suppose." 

" That's the way it is arranged," said the 
little gauzy-winged moths, humming cheerily 
from blossom to blossom. 

" You do look like bees," said Peter, 
watching them. 

" And you hum like bees," added Geral- 
dine. 

" Oh, that's to scare off birds and other 
creatures," giggled the little moths as they 
hummed in and out among the flowers. 
" Everybody thinks we are bees or hornets 
and that we wear stings in our tails. So 
everybody lets us alone, you see." 

"And do you really come from ordinary 
caterpillars?" asked Peter. 

122 



The Fight Teople 

" Of course we do. We are just plain, 
everyday moths that look like bees. There 
are other moths which look almost exactly 
like hornets; others which resemble wasps so 
closely that nobody dare touch them. We 
are protected, you see, because we are deli- 
cious to eat; and if we did not pretend to 
be wasps and bees every bird in Garden- 
Land would be dining on us; and after a 
while there would be no more bee moths 
and " 

A deep, whizzing hum filled the air and 
a great, gray-winged creature darted over the 
verbena bed and hung hovering above the 
flowers. 

"Another humming bird!" exclaimed 
Peter. " I thought all the humming birds 
had gone to bed." 

" That's a big dusk flyer," cried the little 

bee moths. " It's time we went to sleep." 

And they soared up into the calm evening 

123 



Garden-Land 

air, the last sun rays sparkling on their glitter- 
ing wings, and streaked away like two bees, 
only that bees fly steadily and straight, and 
the two bee moths flew in wavy lines like 
the flight of two thistle birds. 

"Hum-m-m! Buzz-z! Hum!" droned the 
big gray dusk flyer, probing with long, slen- 
der tongue the sweet depths of every flower. 
" Ah ! This is perfectly delicious, children. 
I recommend these petunias particularly. If 
you have good, long tongues to dart out you'd 
better begin before the crowd arrives." 

" We don't dart out our tongues when we 
eat," explained Peter. 

" Oh," said the dusk flyer pityingly, " I 
suppose you are a sort of Luna Moth then 
and were born without any tongue to feed 
with. What do you think of my orange- 
colored waist? Rather gay, isn't it?" 

"You look all gray to us," said Geraldine. 

"All misty and gray," said Peter. "We 

124 



The flight People 

can't see any color on you because your 
wings whiz so fast in the twilight. " 

" Can't you see colors by night ?" de- 
manded the big moth, astonished. 

" Can you ?" 

" Of course. All night moths can. Wait 
a moment; I'll alight on Geraldine's wrist and 
give you children a glimpse of me," 

Geraldine extended her hand; the big 
moth darted at it, hummed around it for a 
moment, as though exploring a half-opened 
lily, then softly settled on the slender wrist. 
And, bending over together, the children saw 
a splendid moth, with long, narrow, gray 
wings and a big, smooth, downy body bril- 
liantly patched with ten orange-colored spots. 

The eyes of the moth glowed like a pair 
of golden elfin lanterns set in silver. 

" Oh, you beauty!" cried Geraldine impul- 
sively. 

" I'm not so homely considering that I 

125 



Garden-Land 

came from a great fat, green caterpillar — the 
sort that your gardener calls a 'tomato worm/' 
said the handsome moth proudly. 

It stood there a moment, wings quivering, 
eyes aglow, then whirred away across the 
flower beds where already a dozen other big 
dusk flyers were hovering — great, strong-winged 
moths darting like humming birds from flower 
to flower. 

" Oh, please come and show us how beau- 
tiful you really are!" pleaded Geraldine, 
stretching out her hands toward the misty, 
gray creatures. 

And one after another they came, resting 

proudly for an instant on her wrist — and one 

was velvety olive-green and rose color, and 

some wore salmon-tinted hind wings, and 

some had hind wings the color of crumpled 

rose petals set with great peacock eye spots 

or with violet and orange patches. 

Through the gathering night, clouds of 

126 




" One after another they came, resting proudly for an instant on her wrist. 



The flight Teople 

smaller moths came drifting into the garden; 
and all seemed to be only a sober gray color 
until, at the call of the children, they alighted 
to show their wings. Then they stood an 
instant revealed in lovely tints and hues — 
delicate greens and ivory and rose, splendid 
dyes from fiery scarlet and deepest flame 
color to silver grays and golden ochres won- 
derfully patterned and embroidered in intricate 
arabesques of paler tints. 

In the stillness the King of the Puddle 
lifted up his voice: " Er-rumph ! Ger-rumph ! 
R-r-rumph ! " And at the harmonious signal 
scores of tiny unseen creatures belonging to 
the Royal Orchestra began to strum and fiddle 
and hum and trill and scrape — katydids, 
crickets, grasshoppers, tree frogs — and the 
great Teutonic overture began. 

Overhead under the stars the night hawks 
tossed and soared, filling the sky with strident 
cries; in the hedge the little deer mouse sang 

18 127 



Garden-Land 

his thin, silvery solo; a whip-poor-will's husky 
contralto broke out from the dim thickets by 
the lake; and in the hill pines an owl kept 
up a whistling, twittering, piccolo accompani- 
ment. 

Then a far, sweet voice floated out 
through the starlight : " Children ! Children ! 
Where are you ?" 

And they heard their young mother 
laughing as she came out into the dark 
garden; and they heard their father laugh in 
reply, and they saw the red spark of his 
cigar glimmering in the dusk. 

" Good night, Peter ! Good night, Geral- 
dine!" whispered the little dusk moths, hover- 
ing about their lips with delicate, honey- 
sweet caresses. 

" Good night ! ' breathed the children, kiss- 
ing their hands to the starry darkness. "We 
will come again ! Good night, you tiny little 

folk of Garden-Land ! — you gorgeous butterflies 

128 



The Fight People 

asleep ! You wonderful moths, you curious 
caterpillars, you gauzy, green katydids, you 
crickets and ants and beetles and dragon 
flies, you toads and frogs and fishes, and 
softly feathered birds dreaming in the 
trees " 

" What on earth are those children talking 
to ? " exclaimed their father, coming up out 
of the darkness and lifting Peter under one 
arm and Geraldine under the other. 

But their mother only bent and kissed 
them with a sweet, wise smile. 

" Dream time," she whispered in their 
ears. And the children, smiling up at her 
sleepily, thought that there was no flower in 
Garden-Land as lovely as the face that bent 

above them. 

a) 

THE END 



129 



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